


The Potomac

by DannyCreasy



Series: Miss Belivet and Miss Aird — Soft Kisses, Hard Times [2]
Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternative Universe - FBI, Crimes & Criminals, F/F, Kissing, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Romance, Spies & Secret Agents, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 64,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyCreasy/pseuds/DannyCreasy
Summary: Fifteen million Americans are in uniform. The year is 1944. Therese Belivet and Carol Aird serve in civilian attire, Therese in the FBI and Carol in the OSS. They survived bullets and blades in the past. Now holding “safe jobs” on the home front, Therese and Carol settle in at the Potomac. But war is unpredictable. The couple and their circle left their mark on the Axis. The Third Reich has scores to settle.
Relationships: Carol Aird/Therese Belivet
Series: Miss Belivet and Miss Aird — Soft Kisses, Hard Times [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957024
Comments: 242
Kudos: 49





	1. Oh, My Love, Don't Say That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/vDf57OG)  
>  The Potomac

On Thursday, February 10, 1944, Therese Belivet tidied up her desk in Washington, D.C.’s Department of Justice Building. Supervisory Special Agent Connor Slate seemed to have no other tasks for her to perform. It was a quarter-to-five. She frowned a bit when she heard Con call, “Therese, got a minute?” Carol and she were trying a new menu, and they always had the best time cooking together.

As per Bureau policy, she key-locked her desk before leaving her desk for Con’s door.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I know it’s late, and we’ve cleared our slate… geez, I promise that was not a lame pun.”

She snickered, “Oh, I’m sure.”

“Anyway ... please shut the door and have a seat.”

Therese apprehensively complied. She sat, crossed her legs, and clasped her hands resting on her knees.

“Relax, T, you’re not in trouble. It’s just that I’ve been putting off telling you something that you have the right to know.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He nervously cleared his throat, then opened the only file on his desk and lifted the single piece of paper it contained. “Therese, this is a copy of your birth certificate. I imagine you knew I had to have come up with it at some point, or we wouldn’t have contracted you in 1940, let alone now.”

“Yes, but it’s just … I wasn’t sure I wanted to know about my parents.”

“Hey, I can slip this copy back in the shadow file I maintain on you and pretend I never told you about it. It will be locked up in my cabinet with all the rest of my team files. If you ever want it, ask.”

Therese gazed at him, then the wall, and finally her hands; now they were in a white-knuckled grip with one another.

Con patiently waited. Therese thought how lucky she was to work for such a gentleman.

Con laid the copy down and started to close the file.

“No, wait, Con.”

He paused and glanced at her.

“Yes, Sir … please let me see it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said and lightly bit her bottom lip.

He closed the folder and handed it to her.

Therese closed her eyes, took two slow deep breaths, and examined the document. The orphanage had indeed told her the correct date of birth when she was a tot. She had to admit the facility was good to celebrate each child’s birthday. The cake was always simple, and the gift was meager, but they tried. It mattered. It made her think of the lovely pearl necklace Carol Aird gave her eleven days ago on January 30th. Therese touched it.

Con had to blink away the moisture in his eyes.

Therese looked at the place of birth and saw Roanoke, Virginia. _How the Hell did I get dumped in Podunk, Alabama?_

Her biological mother’s name was Jitka Ljuba Belivet. Then Therese stared at the space for her father’s name. “Unknown” shot like a bullet to her heart.

Con handed her his handkerchief as she began to cry. He walked over and stood beside her with his hand on her shoulder. She stood and placed the file on his desk and hugged him. He patted her back. “There, there, sweet lady … there, there.”

“I’m sorry, Con. I’m such a mush.”

“Don’t you dare, you have nothing to be sorry about, Therese. Frankly, I wish I had asked Carol to be with you when I showed you this.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Can I get you a cup of water?”

“No, thank you.”

“You can take this. It’s your copy, Therese.”

She started to decline and ask him to keep it, then she decided to share it with Carol. Therese murmured, “If there’s nothing else, Con, I’d like to head home.”

“Certainly.” Then he grasped her hand. “Therese, you know me, and you know the Bureau; she’s alive.”

“What?”

“Yes, she’s alive, and I printed her last known address on the back of your copy. If you choose to pursue it, please talk to me first. You will need your eyes wide open. I want to help in any way I can.”

Therese clutched the folder tightly; she hadn’t the emotional energy left to view it at that moment. “Thank you, Con. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Therese grabbed her coat and scarf. She wrapped the scarf around her head and neck then buttoned up snuggly; it was windy and in the twenties outside.

Carol was waiting for her in the parking lot. Therese walked quickly to their Plymouth and hopped in the passenger side. The country was now on daylight savings time year-round, so there was still some light outside. Carol smiled, “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Hi, love.”

“Hey, you’ve been crying. What’s happened?”

“Just let me tell you about it when we get home.”

“Okay.”

“Carol steered them for the Potomac, but along the way, she kept taking worried glances at her girl.”

In the elevator, Carol could tell her partner was barely holding on. When the door opened, Therese rushed to their door with key in hand. The 22-year-old opened the door and headed straight for their bedroom. Carol closed and locked the door. She saw that Therese had gone straight to the bedroom. Carol could hear Therese sobbing. Carol walked to the bedroom door and was heartbroken to find Therese curled up on her side, still wearing her coat and scarf.

Carol hung up her coat, then dropped her hat and gloves on their new dining table and went to the kitchen. She got two lowball glasses from the cabinet then poured two fingers of Vat 69, no water, and no ice. She carried them into the bedroom. Carol took a drink, sighed, and sat her glass on her nightstand. She carried the other glass around and sat it on Therese’s nightstand.

“Therese, I’m going to help you take off this scarf and coat.”

Therese listlessly let Carol remove the outdoor garments. Carol gently rolled the girl from side to side until the coat and scarf were free. She draped them over their bedroom chair. Carol noticed the manila folder Therese had been carrying was on the bed beside her. Carol sat down on the bed and pulled Therese’s head and shoulders up into her lap. “Here, sweet baby, have a drink.”

Therese sipped the burning Scotch and coughed.

“You okay?”

“Can I have another?”

“Certainly … here, darling … careful now.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Carol had a hanky and handed it to Therese.

Therese wiped her eyes and cheeks then blew her nose.

“There, now. Better?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Another sip?”

“Yes.” Therese took a full drink this time.

Carol sat the glass back on the nightstand, then she leaned her head down to give Therese the just right, most perfect of kisses.

“Now, what’s in that mean old file?”

Therese hesitantly reached over and grasped the folder and handed it to Carol. Carol opened it and read. Therese gave Carol a moment then cried, “I’m not an orphan; I’m an abandoned bastard.”

“Oh, my love, don’t say that.”

Now they both cried. Carol squeezed Therese tightly while gently stroking her upper arm. After five or so minutes, Carol asked, “How are you not an orphan, darling?”

“My mother is alive … her address is on the back.”

Carol glanced at the back of the birth certificate and recognized Con’s distinctive printing.

“Are you considering contacting her, love?”

“I don’t want to think about that right now.”

“Of course.”

“Oh my goodness! We were going to cook.”

“That food will keep, sweetheart, we can cook tomorrow. I’ll heat some soup and make us a sandwich after a while.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shush now, darling, you just let Carol hold you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/UyJ0rAW)  
> Wow!


	2. A Whole Lot of Friday

Therese soon had her rhythm with her fierce strikes popping the speed bag at a rate of one-per-second. Carol watched Therese concernedly from atop her stationary bike. The bike was the newest piece of equipment at their gym. Carol was excited when she found it not in use.

Carol had urged Therese to go through their usual warm-ups together, but Therese had donned her little bag gloves and gone straight to the hanging speed bag. Carol had watched Therese increase her speed over the last five minutes. Left, left, left, right, right, right, combination, combination, combination…

Carol glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 06:18 a.m., and they usually headed home at half-past-six. Therese increased her speed. She started making strikes with her right glove at almost two-per-second. People were staring. Carol slipped off her seat and headed for her lover. “Therese.” Closer. “Therese.” Ten feet. “Therese!” She grabbed her girl’s shoulders.

Therese jerked around and stepped back in her fighting stance. She froze.

In a calming voice yet with a firm tone, Carol urged, “Therese, it’s time to go.”

Therese glanced at the clock. “No, we have five minutes.”

“It’s time to go, Therese.”

Therese relented and held out her gloves for Carol to unlace. Carol pulled the gloves and dropped them in their gym bag. Therese was already headed for the exit. Carol embarrassedly hurried to catch up with her. Therese burst through the steel door and darted down the steps. She broke into a sprint for the Potomac. Carol exited and saw her devastated best friend and love of her life, crossing onto the next block. Carol sighed and set a rapid walking pace for home. She hoped Therese wouldn’t slip on a splotch of ice or crusty snow.

When Carol reached their apartment door, she found it unlocked. Therese’s keys were tossed on their newest acquisition, a petite, black-enameled foyer table. As she locked the door, Carol could hear that Therese was already in the shower. Her teacher-ire was up a bit at this point. They had agreed long ago always to lock their apartment door. Besides the obvious common sense of the habit, their occupations called for heightened security. Carol choked back the emotion and walked to the bathroom.

Through the shower curtain, Carol asked, “Therese, how about some coffee and toast with jelly? I’ll get it started.”

“Whatever.”

Carol jerked the curtain open.

Therese’s gorgeous green eyes shot wide open as she brought her soapy arms up to cover her ivory breasts.

“Listen here, missy. You have no right to treat me like this. I love you, and I’m here for you. Now! You finish up and come to the kitchen and apologize. We can deal with this … as adults.”

As Therese approached the kitchen, Carol directed, “It’s ready, darling, go ahead and take your seat at the table.

Therese turned to the table and saw that Carol had laid out placemats and silverware. A glass of orange juice, cup, and saucer completed each set. Therese sat and scooted her chair up to the table. Carol entered with a serving tray. Therese always sat on the end, and Carol always sat to her left. Carol put the tray in front of Therese’s placemat. The tray had the coffee pot, cream, a jar of apple jelly, and two plates of buttered toast.

“All we have is apple.”

“That’s okay; I like apple jelly.” Therese reached and gently grabbed Carol’s forearm.

Carol’s heart melted. She leaned down and kissed Therese. Therese grew the grasp into a hug as Carol knelt beside her. They embraced. Therese did not cry. She was cried out. She tucked her face in Carol’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, C.”

“Apology accepted, T.” Carol stroked Therese lovingly.

“That teacher-voice scared me.”

Carol chuckled.

“Sit down, sweetheart, and let’s eat before everything gets cold.”

Carol moved to her spot at the table, and Therese handed her one of the plates of toast.

They smiled at each other as they poured cream and coffee, then passed the jelly back and forth.

“Thank you for breakfast.”

“You're welcome, love.”

Therese shifted her gaze out their patio doors as she took her first sip of coffee.

“Therese, do you want me to call, Con. He’d understand.”

“No. I’ll be fine. We have two reports pending. I’m shelving all of this ‘Momma’ crap until tomorrow.”

Carol studied her. After a moment, she was sure her little fighter was back. “Okay, then … sounds like a plan. They’ll be no talk about it until tomorrow.”

“Can we cook tonight?”

“Sure … it’ll be a fun Friday night.”

Therese touched Carol’s arm. “Hey, I want to try something different after dinner as well.”

“And what would that be?”

“Don’t you ever mind, teach … it’ll be a fun Friday night.”

“You.”

“You, yourself.”

“Hey, we have to hurry, or we’ll be late.”

“Well, okay!”

*****

Dr. Janice Sinclair gripped the far edge of her desk as Phil McElroy pounded her from behind. She uttered nary a sound as her considerable self-control focused her ecstasy entirely on the string of multiple orgasms building within her loins; one hell of a climax was just around the corner. Phil was hopelessly enraptured with Janice. With the mind of Hypatia and the body of Tierney, Janice owned him. He lived for these brief moments of unmitigated passion.

They came at the same moment, a blinding release of fluids and contractions. Phil collapsed on her back. Both panted to restore oxygen to their numb extremities. “When will Carol be here?”

“She’s always prompt, darling, but never early. We’re fine.” Janice slowly stood upright as Phil pulled out and away. She had perfectly folded hand towels at the ready and tossed one to her 26-year-old lover. Her age was a much-debated mystery. Even the powerful Con was locked out of Dr. Sinclair’s file. She would remain a thirty-something target of speculation, and that suited her right down to the ground.

She bounced up and down on the toes of her flats and wriggled to expedite the expulsion of Phil’s seed with a naughty grin that made Phil yearn to start all over. Never wanting her life burdened with offspring, she opted for a tubal ligation a month before her marriage. The self-absorbed Dr. Eric Sinclair was all in on his fiancée’s medical procedure; he was thrilled to be freed from any contraceptive or paternal responsibilities.

Janice soon had her panties and garter belt squared away and her slip and skirt smoothed down. She considerately moved to help her single-armed lover with his belt and fly. Janice grabbed Phil’s suit coat from her desk chair and affectionately helped him put it on. She adjusted and smoothed the shoulders, then softly patted his back. “There we go, all nice and handsome.”

Phil reached to the corner of the desk and lifted his .45. He smoothly slipped the flat handgun in his waistband behind his hip.”

She cooed, “I appreciate that, Sgt. McElroy.”

“The pleasure was mine, Dr. Sinclair.”

She laughed.

Her laughs always sent him over the moon. He shook his head, grinning. “Where did you say Hatch was this morning?”

“She occasionally takes a weekend to travel and see her daughter in Philly. I always give her that Friday off for the trip over; it gives her more time with her kin.”

“That’s considerate.”

“Does it surprise you, Phil… that I can be considerate?”

“Hell no. I’ve got your number, sweet lady. Beneath that veil of cold academia lurks a heart of gold.”

They heard a car pull up outside. Janice walked to the window and saw that it was Carol Aird. “There’s Carol.” She turned to her bodyguard. “Phil, Sin is traveling again; he’s on an assignment in Canada.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was wondering… if you subtly come to my backdoor tonight at ten, I’ll fuck you all weekend... in a bed for once.”

“In a bed … damn, ‘for once’?”

“Or twice … or fifty times.”

“I will see you at ten.”

The doorbell rang. Phil started for the door.

Janice stopped him. “No, no, I got it. You look much too satisfied. Read the paper and have a smoke in the kitchen. The war news will make you all tense again.”

He chuckled and turned for the kitchen.

“Carol, darling, you look smashing on this frigid Friday. Thank you for coming to my home instead of the office today. I think we’ll get much more done. Here, let me help you with your coat and hat. Ah, that perfume…

*****

Therese entered the office and went straight for the percolator. She always rinsed it out the day before so that it would be clean and dry for them the next morning. Sometimes Con arrived first and would start the brew. At least he knew how to make coffee, understandable, given that he was a bachelor of several years. She often wondered about fixing him up with this or that gal but always decided to let-sleeping-dogs-lie. Although she was a bit concerned about how long his dog had lain.

With the coffee perking, she went to her desk, unlocked the center drawer, and pulled the pending reports. She opened one, plopped down, fed paper into her typewriter, and began to hammer away at the keys.

“Good morning, Miss Belivet!” chimed Con.

“Mornin’, Con! You certainly seem chipper.”

“Well, it’s Friday!” His face turned serious for a moment; he thought about the bombshell he dropped on her yesterday. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m just capital!”

He kept his eyes on hers a second. “Okay, then. Wow, you’ve already got coffee cookin’ and keys flyin’!”

“Yep.”

After removing his coat and hat and hanging them on their coat stand, he shivered a bit and rubbed his arms. “Are you cold?”

“No. It feels fine in here.”

In a Dickensian imitation, Con asked, “Please, Mum, may I have another lump of coal?”

“No, the temp is fine. Please don’t start messing with our radiator; it’s like a two-mile train. Now scurry off to your desk, Bob Cratchit, before I dock your pay.”

“Oh, no! Not a farthing. Please, Mum, not a farthing,” he whimpered as he headed for his office.

She grinned and shook her head as the typed words flew across her paper. She put a phone call through to him a few minutes later. As she rolled up and proofed the page, the percolator finished. She got Con a cup and filled it with black coffee. Therese carried it into him. “Here ya go, boss.”

Glumly now, he flatly stated, “Thank you, Therese.”

“What’s up? Where’s that Friday smile?”

“Oh, my date for tonight just canceled.”

“Was that her on the phone just now? Shit, that’s early… a quarter-after-nine.”

“Well, no, that was her secretary.”

“Secretary? What does she do, pray, tell?”

“She’s the editor at a magazine.”

“Which one?”

“Doll.”

“Damn! I love Doll.”

“What woman doesn’t?”

“Hold the phone! Are you dating Margaret Shannon?”

“That was the plan.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Con, I’m sure she has a good reason.”

“I guess … some crap about having to leave early for the Hamptons.”

“The Hamptons?” Therese smirked and exited to leave him with his blues.

Around 10:30, Therese had finished the reports and took them in for Con. Before entering, she had fished a Hershey bar from her purse. “You want half, Con?”

“That would be great, T,” he smiled.

“Hey, I want one of you that’s attracted to men.”

Therese laughed, “Here, you take a bite of this, and I’ll get you another cup of coffee.”

She returned with the coffee and commented, “Another ‘me’ would not be the editor of Doll magazine, and she would not be weekending in the Hamptons.”

“I don’t care about all that. I just liked talking to her.”

“Where was that?”

“At a party last weekend.”

“Oh, that thing in Alexandria last Saturday?”

“Yep.”

“What was she wearing?”

“Get out of here, Belivet.”

“Therese chuckled as she retreated to her desk.”

Just after one in the afternoon, Con returned from the cafeteria. Therese was on the phone. She raised a finger, signaling for Con to pause. After hanging up, she said, “Con, the director wants to see you at two.”

“Hoover?”

“Yes, Sir. His assistant said it was a totally new matter, and you would not be expected to have material or prior knowledge of the subject to be discussed.”

Speechless, Con stepped into his office.

Therese thought her boss was having an especially unpleasant Friday. It was sad given that his day had started so positively.

Therese had cleared her in-basket and Con’s out-basket. She had changed the ribbon on her Royal. Therese had sharpened all of her pencils and Con’s. She had inventoried their supply shelf and sent an order for items that were depleted. Her trainer had tipped her that it took days for the bureaucratic machine to work, so it was best to stay ahead.

At a quarter-to-five, Con had not returned. She was concerned but not about staying over; she was worried about her friend, Connor Slate.

He walked in with a resolute demeanor at five-till. “Therese, I should have called, but honestly, I never had the chance.”

“No worries. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, there are just a lot of new concerns they wanted me to be aware of. Actually, it’s all just fine with me. This is big stuff, Therese. I’m not at liberty to discuss it as of yet, but soon, perhaps late next week.”

She nodded.

He glanced at the empty baskets and immaculate office. “Damn, remind me to tell my secretary how great she is.”

“I will.” Therese acted spontaneously, but she knew Carol would understand. “Con, why don’t you come over to our place for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, that’s sweet, Therese, but I couldn’t impose.”

“It won’t be an imposition. We are trying something new. But don’t be scared. We’ve gotten pretty good. Listen to this menu: roasted beef brisket, pull-apart rolls, ‘Minty Snap Pea Salad,’ and ‘Fluffy Potato Kugel.’”

Good, Lord, “How do you two keep those figures?”

“The gym.”

“Oh, yeah … the gym.”

“What do you say, boss?”

“Sure, but I must contribute.”

“Okay, pick up a bottle of red on your way over.”

“I was gifted a Kunde Family Pinot Noir last year by a San Francisco Special Agent.”

“Oh, Con, that sounds perfect.”

“What time should I be there?”

“As soon as you want. You can chat with us while we cook… but no shop talk.”

“Understood. Hey, I’m sure this will be news to Carol. Are you sure—”

“Hush! Let’s get out of here.”

“They walked down and out together. Carol was waiting in her usual spot. Carol waved at Con. “She’s going to kill you if this is spoiling her Friday night.”

“In that case, an FBI agent will soon be there to investigate the crime.”

*****

“Are you mad at me, Carol?”

“Of course not, darling. Con is our friend. It sounds like he had a tough day that was bound for a lonely night. You did the right thing. Besides, we have the whole weekend together.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. Now, be careful chopping that mint. I don’t want you to bleed all over our food.”

The intercom buzzed. Carol stepped to it and asked, “Is our guest here, Mr. Champion?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Slate is on his way up.”

“Thank you. You have a nice evening, sir.”

“I will, you too, Miss Aird. Mr. Fulks will be taking over shortly.”

“Very well.”

She waited a minute, then opened the door and saw that Con was exiting the elevator.

“Hello, Con. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Carol, and you?”

“Spectacular. Come on in.”

“Here’s the wine.”

“Oh, Therese told me you had this; how lovely.”

Finished with the mint and unscathed, Therese approached, “Let me take your overcoat and hat, Con.”

In the kitchen, Con took off his suit coat and placed it over the back of a chair. He pulled a cufflink and began to roll up his starched cuff and sleeve. “How can I help?”

Carol laughed, “How about peeling and grating these potatoes?”

“I’m on it.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, I’ve been cooking for myself for years.”

Therese stepped over with the grater and a peeling knife. “We’ll double-team ’em, pick one.”

He chuckled, “I’ll save your knuckles,” then took the grater. "Ladies, that brisket smells good.”

“We just put it in,” remarked Carol.

“Who did you have to kill to get that?”

“The corner butcher has a crush on Therese, and he told Mr. Champion to tell her to drop by his shop on Tuesday.”

“Imagine that ... someone having a crush on Therese.”

“I know, Con, it’s hard to believe, right?”

“Yes, I mean—”

“That’s enough, you two, I have a knife.”

They laughed. Carol placed the wine in the fridge. Con asked, “Should that be chilled?”

“Just a tad. It’s best with Pinot Noir.”

“You’re the expert.”

“How about a drink, Con?”

“Oh, Carol, you read my mind. Do you have the makings for a batch of your killer martinis?”

“I do.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Con.

Therese had grown to love them as well; she wiggled her hips with joy. Con did not see that, but Carol did, and she thought, _Later, my sweet._

They sipped vodka martinis, talked, and joked until the meal was ready. All three had set the table, and two candles gave a lovely glow to a cold February night.

Con asked if they would hold his hands. He prayed that God bless their meal and look over their agents, operatives, servicemen, and servicewomen wherever they may be.

They sat and enjoyed the meal they had rendered. Everything turned out well. There was enough ice cream in the freezer for each to have a scoop. It sat well on their palates. Con insisted on helping with the dishes. He took on the pots and pans. They sat with the last of the wine and talked after their chore was done. Con noted, “Carol, it’s a shame you don’t have a piano. Will you get rusty?”

Therese laughed, “Are you kidding, Con. She goes to the Episcopal Church across the street and plays most Saturday mornings for an hour.”

Carol added, “And the pub one block over lets me play on Tuesday nights.”

Con smiled at both mental images.

Carol put Chopin on the record player, and they closed their eyes and listened.

Con left at ten after hugs and cheek-kisses.

Carol took Therese’s hand and flipped off the lights. She led her to the bedroom, where they kissed in a gentle embrace. Carol pulled back a bit and asked, “What’s this ‘something different’ you promised?”

“We have to get warmed up first.”

“If you only knew how warmed up I’ve been all day, you’d—“

“Now, now. Let’s wash up, brush our teeth, and put on our sexy lingerie.”

“You mean the items we save for Valentine’s Day?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But Valentine’s Day isn’t until Monday.”

“Exactly, Monday, and that means work the next morning.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Are you onboard?”

“Fully.”

They pulled their bedcovers down and met on their knees in the middle of the bed. With Therese in her whites and Carol in her blacks, they picked back up where they had left off.

Carol was on fire; she wanted to devour Therese. Therese could always read her moods. She eased herself down with her back on the pillows and spread her legs. Carol moved between them and began to remove the dainties. Carol grinned, “The damn thing about these is they get me so excited, and then I can’t wait to get them off.”

“I know, but isn’t it fun?”

“That, it is, dearie,” spoke Carol as she pulled down the first hose, gently kissing Therese’s leg along the way. “My God, how long has it been?”

“Just a few days, darling.”

“Well, it seems longer. Therese, you taste so good. You smell so good. Oh, fuck, you look so good.” Carol hurried through the other hose and panties but couldn’t wait on the white lace garter belt. She drove her mouth into Therese’s hot wet vulva. The troubles of the younger woman’s world had vanished. She was floating in an erotic never-never land. Carol took her time, methodically shifting her attention to Therese’s breasts, neck, and lips.

Deep into the lovemaking, Therese took control. She slowly turned Carol into a writhing mass of multiple orgasms. She shocked Carol when she stopped and crawled to the edge of the bed, reached down under it, then returned with a long narrow box. “Abby gave this to me before we left Mobile this last time. This is the ‘something different,’ but I have no idea as to what it is. She said it was for the two of us to share and that I was to save it for Valentine’s Day. But—”

Carol, panting and stunned, urged, “Well, open it!”

Therese pulled the top off and stared. Carol thought her sweetheart’s eyes were going to fall out of her pretty little head. “What is it, Therese? Show me!”

Therese pulled a long double-ended dildo from the box. A note card dropped free. The indirect light from the hall gave them just enough illumination to read the card.

_Hey girls,_

_This is made of natural rubber. I got one in New Orleans a few years ago, and it's a hoot, so I bought y’all one back in the summer. Use the lubricant in the box. Each of you must insert an end in your respective pussies and then bang the hell out of each other._

_Love,_

_Abby_

_XOXOXO_

Carol exclaimed, give me that. Open that tin, honey. Let’s do this.

Therese numbly complied.

Carol hefted the piece at its balance point. “Dang, this thing's heavy, T!”

“I know … and gigantic!”

“Oh, come on, kitten, you’re up to the challenge.”

“I guess.”

“Guess … nothing. Turn around, darling.”

They were lovingly patient with one another and started as gently as they could. Once the first waves of her expanded vagina started hitting Therese, she was all in. They laughed with ecstasy when they finally got the rhythm down. Therese exclaimed, “This is like that crosscut saw we had at the orphanage; it takes teamwork. I got this now.”

Carol corrected, “We got this now. Therese, fuck me, girl.”

“I am! You fuck me back, lady!”

They screamed.

They often hoped their neighbors thought they had especially virile boyfriends. That might be grounds for complaint but not arrest.


	3. Jitka

“Well, this is the address, Carol.”

“Did Con say anything about it being a business?”

“Oh, look, is that like ... like a residential living space on the second floor?”

“Yeah, I guess so … maybe a two-bedroom apartment?”

“The Soldier’s Shop.”

“Don’t you think that looks like a temporary sign?”

“Now that you mention it … yes. Yep, I think there is an older sign underneath.”

Therese and Carol had spent the night in a New Jersey holiday court a few miles west of Atlantic City. They had been packed and ready to head for the coastal city immediately after they got off work on Friday, February 18th. The weather was better than it had been in weeks, with the roads being fairly clear, and the temps were above freezing. The women had eaten supper at a diner in Delaware around seven. They checked into the lonely court at ten. After a fretful night’s sleep and a light breakfast of coffee and Danish, the couple drove the remaining distance to Atlantic City. Neither had ever been to the city before, but both of them had read numerous articles about the former vacation resort’s transformation into a massive Army training facility complete with upscale hotels converted to enlisted barracks and officer quarters.

As per their usual assignments, Carol drove while Therese read the map and navigated. Con must have been expecting Therese to approach him about going to meet her birth mother. He had the latest AAA road maps of Maryland, Delaware, and New Jersey to hand her, plus the Atlantic City FBI field agent’s detailed map of Atlantic City proper. Con offered to accompany Therese and Carol, but she told him that it was unnecessary and promised to be very careful. Her fatherlike boss gave his blessings to the venture after a few parting statements. Therese always listened to Con and filed his sage advice in her mental cabinet.

Now at five-past-ten on this Saturday morning, Carol patiently waited for Therese to initiate the last steps of their quest. “Darling, it’s not too late to turn back. We can forget this and head home right this very instant.”

Therese intently stared at the store across the street. After a moment, she replied, “No, I’m ready. Let’s go,” yet she didn’t move.

Carol squeezed her hand.

Therese fired her eyes into her love’s, “Carol, I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I can’t imagine doing this without you. Thank you for… well… loving me.”

Carol, always prepared, had a hanky in hand. She pulled her glasses and dabbed her eyes. Therese smiled empathetically, but her own eyes were dry and resolute. “You okay, sweet lady?”

Carol sniffled once then uttered, “Yes, I’m fine. You ready?”

Therese released Carol’s hand and opened her door. The “Army Town” was busy. They had to wait a minute for traffic to slow before they could cross the street. Four laughing soldiers exited at the shop; the last one held the door open for them, saying, “Ladies?”

Carol smiled, “Thank you, Private!”

The retail facility’s inside was eclectic. It took little time for Therese and Carol to realize that what had once been a women’s dress shop was now a handy stop for soldiers. The floor space's back had crowded racks of dated top-end dresses, slacks, shorts, and even a few swimsuits. The front had a plethora of newspapers, magazines, comics, and pulp novels strung along the west wall. The east side had an impressively long glass counter filled with dozens of different types of candy and snacks. Behind the counter were multiple shelves of tobacco products. As would be the case, that was the dominant aroma, tobacco. A large soft drink box near the door hummed away. Therese begrudgingly respected the proprietor’s obvious business acumen and sense of survivability.

A buxom lady with striking eyes and an engaging smile emerged from what must be a storage closet nestled behind the wall of tobacco products. She carried two cartons of Lucky Strikes; the enlisted men must have emptied the display case of their favorite. “May I help you, ladies?” The couple noticed the Eastern European accent, albeit one mellowed by years of U.S. residency.

Carol saw that Therese was frozen in space. She astutely stated, “I’ll take that last box of Craven “A”… I hate to clean you out, but one seldom finds them these days.”

“Don’t be sorry, my dear, if you don’t buy them, someone else soon will.” The woman set her Lucky Strikes down on the counter and turned to fetch Carol’s smokes. “Will there be anything else?” she asked as her eyes paused on Therese’s face.

“Dear?” asked Carol.

Therese had to force her eyes from the saleswoman’s. She turned her attention to Carol, “Uh, no, I’m fine.”

Carol answered the woman standing at the register, “I guess that will be all then, thank you, ma’am.”

They concluded the transaction, then the slightly graying brunette asked Carol, “Would you like a bag for those?”

“No, those are going right in my handbag.” She and the woman chuckled.

Therese desperately scanned the shop. She did not know what she was seeking. She was just stalling for time. When her eyes came back to the woman behind the counter, Therese found that same intense, almost troublesome, gaze. The woman said, “I thought you might walk through that door someday, Therese.”

Carol and Therese stood in shock.

Therese blinked twice, swallowed hard, then asked, “Would it be possible to speak to Jitka Belivet?”

“Your mother is out at the moment. She went to deliver an order to the post commander.”

Therese felt like a deflating balloon. Carol eased closer to lend an arm if needed.

The woman read Therese’s countenance and spoke up, “Here, you are welcome to wait, child. Back here... by the old changing room… we have a table and chairs.”

Carol nodded, then put her arm around Therese and walked to the clothing area. The air changed from one of tobacco to one of fabric and dye. The small round table had an ashtray and two chairs. They sat. Carol held Therese’s hands in the center of the table.

A couple of minutes later, the woman entered with two Cokes. “Here, you look like you can use a little pick-me-up, my dear.” She set them on the table.

Carol gently patted the woman’s arm. “That is most considerate. Let me get some change.”

“No, no … it’s on me … the least I can do for the daughter of my dear Jitka.”

“I’m Carol Aird, and you must know this is Therese Belivet.”

Seeing no wedding bands, the woman responded, “Nice to meet you, Miss Aird … I’m Ruby Robichek.”

Carol shook her hand, and noticing the older woman’s gold ring, she replied, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Robichek.”

Ruby patted Therese’s shoulder. “Yes, Therese, I saw your momma in your face right away.”

Therese impatiently asked, “How long will she be gone?’

“She will be back any minute, my dear.”

Therese lowered her gaze to her hands and watched her right thumb draw circles on the back of her left hand.

Carol asked, “Does Therese’s mother live here… upstairs?”

“Yes, as do I.”

“Mr. Robichek, as well?”

“No, he passed away in 1935 … just Jitka and I call this home.”

“And, work …”

“That’s right.”

Carol was surprised by Ruby’s candor; she pressed on.

“It’s clever how you converted your business. Those are some beautiful clothes,… high-end. I bet you miss the tourist trade. I imagine they purchased a lot of your clothing.”

“Yes… when the Army invaded. I was tempted to sell out and leave. The dress shop was Rudolph’s and my dream. He handled the books, the buying, and the stocking, and I sold, sold, sold. We hired Jitka as our seamstress in 1931. She became much more to us. After he died, she filled his shoes.” Ruby blushed a bit and glanced away. Carol caught it but not the distracted Therese.

Carol asked, “So, did you and Miss Belivet make this change in your business all at once?”

“No, slowly. The hardest thing was covering my sign.”

“Aw, what was on the old one?”

“Ruby’s”

Therese surprised them. She had been listening after all. “So, she told you about me?”

“Yes. Once, a few years ago, I found her crying in the supply room. It was a January 30th. She told me of her child … you.”

“My birthday …”

“That’s right, miláčku.”

“You’re Czech as well?”

“Yes, my parents immigrated to New York City in 1912 with my two brothers and me.”

“Rudolph and I moved here in 1924 … honestly, we followed the gangsters. They have deep pockets and their women … well … expensive tastes.”

Therese did not know how to deal with Ruby’s open, matter-of-fact sharing. Therese’s pent up anger was about to explode. “Why—”

The front door’s spring-mounted bell sounded.

Ruby stepped back and glanced at the entrance. She spoke out, “Jitka! Here, let me take those baskets. You have company, kočičko.”

Sharp little steps sounded on the hardwood floor. Carol stood and moved to look. Ruby was probably going to prepare Jitka, but she saw that Carol was watching. She took the empty delivery baskets from her business partner and gestured towards Carol.

Carol stared. If one had asked her to sit down and sketch Therese at age forty, the petite, dark-haired woman before her would be the resulting image.

As they neared the table, Ruby stated, “Jitka, this is Carol Aird, and this is—”

“Therese?” uttered Jitka.

Therese tersely greeted, “Hello, Mother.”

Jitka looked at Ruby.

Ruby’s smile was gone, with tears she uttered, “I’m sorry, kočičko”

Jitka squeezed her arm as if to reassure Ruby that everything would be okay.

A couple of WACs entered the store. Jitka spoke decisively, “Ruby, can you mind the counter?”

Ruby nodded and stepped away for the front. “Hello, Betty … Hi, Gayle, what are we in need of today?”

Jitka asked Carol, “Miss Aird, would you mind if Therese and I went upstairs and talked?”

Carol was conflicted; she looked to Therese. “Are you okay with that, Therese?”

Therese moved her eyes from one woman to the other for a few seconds. She answered Carol, “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll be okay, Carol.”

Carol gripped Therese’s hand for a moment then stepped back to make room for her to slip by and follow Jitka. Carol asked, “Miss Belivet, should I wait here?”

“Of course, Miss Aird, thank you.”

The WACs were perusing the magazines, so Ruby waved to Carol. “Miss Aird, come visit with me … bring your Coke.”

Carol hesitantly complied. “Therese hasn’t touched hers; would you like it, Mrs. Robichek?”

“Certainly, and we’ll share a bag of chips.”

Therese stepped through a door into a stairwell and then followed her mother up a steep flight of stairs. Jitka opened a door at the top, and they entered a combination living room and kitchen space. The residential quarters were “lived in” but clean, colorful, and textured. A steam radiator clicked in the corner.

“May I take your coat, Therese?”

Therese slowly pulled her coat off and handed it to Jitka.

As Jitka hung both of their coats on hooks by the stairwell door, she urged, “Please sit, Therese. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Uh, no thank you. Where, the couch?”

“Yes, if you like.”

Therese stiffly perched at the near end of the sofa. Jitka sat in an armchair to the front and left of Therese.

“How are you, Therese?”

“How am I?”

“Yes. You are stunning ... I mean to say you seem very fit … a healthy, strong woman of …”

“Twenty-two.”

“Yes, twenty-two.”

“Yes, I’m healthy and strong. No thanks to you, huh? Wait! What do I call you ‘Mother’ seemed to ring a bit flat earlier.”

“Perhaps … Jitka would be fine.”

Therese noted the accent, not as thick as Mrs. Robichek’s, but there nonetheless.

“I’m sorry, Therese.”

“For what?”

“Therese, I know you hate me, but—”

“Hate you? How could I hate you? I don’t even know you. I never knew you.”

“Let me explain, Therese.”

“Therese stood with fists clenched at her sides. I don’t think so … Jitka.”

Jitka stood and reached to Therese. She tenderly pressed her shoulder. “Please sit, Therese.”

Therese eased back down and sighed.

“Therese, I’ve only shared our story, mine and yours, with two other souls, Ruby Robichek and my brother.”

“I’m listening.”

“I arrived at Ellis Island on August 5th in the year 1910. I was born on February 5th in the year of 1904.”

“Yes, your date of birth is on my birth certificate.”

“Really. I have not seen that document since I turned it over to that orphanage in Alabama.”

“About that, I … never mind, I’ll let you continue.”

Jitka smiled at Therese. “I was five when we got off the boat. My memories of that time are cloudy: masses of people, tenements, stench, disease, and hunger. Father did have a trade. He was a welder. We moved to Norfolk, Virginia, in 1914, and he found good work at the naval yards in Norfolk and Portsmouth. I had a sister and two brothers. My mother and one of my brothers died of the Spanish Flu in 1918. Father was very sullen after that. My sister was the oldest. She married a sailor and moved away. She hated Father, and I have never heard from her since. I know Father is now long dead as well. I do know where my other brother lives. Your Uncle Marek Belivet is a kind man. He lives in Norfolk. Perhaps you’d … sorry.” She stared out the window for a moment.

“I was timid with boys. Naturally, I fell for the first fellow that showed kindness and love to me. I was 17 at the time; it was 1921. He was a sailor. I knew him as David Smith, and he claimed to be born and raised in Gantry, Alabama, a tiny village near Andalusia, Alabama. We stepped out, as we called it then, once or twice. Father hated him because he was older than me and not a Catholic. He came over one night when my brother and father were both working a nightshift. We were kissing. He kept wanting more. I tried to resist him, but he forced himself upon me. I did not think of it as rape at the time, but it was. I felt it was my fault. When he was finished, he said he would come back the next day and ask my father for my hand. I never saw David Smith again. That man was your father, Therese.”

Therese was crying. She pulled a handkerchief from her purse. Jitka asked, “Would you like some tea?”

Therese nodded. Jitka stepped to the kitchen and started a kettle of water. Therese walked over to be near her. Jitka smiled as she put the ground tea leaves in two tea filters and placed them in mugs. When the kettle boiled, she filled the cups. Jitka put her arm around Therese. They stared at the darkening water. A few minutes later, they added sugar and milk and returned to their seats.

“Father said I had brought shame to our family and the memory of my mother. He sent me off to have the baby at a convent near Roanoke. Father never visited me. Marek visited me frequently. He held you the day after your birth. I told Marek how much I would like to find the father of my child. I was sure that David would fall in love with me after seeing the two of us together. You were a beautiful, precious baby. A couple of weeks later, Marek told me that Father had gone to the Navy, but they claimed no sailor of such name and description was stationed in the Portsmouth or Norfolk area. I told Marek that the Navy was lying and asked if he would help me travel to Alabama to find you. Marek could not accompany me, he had a wife and baby of his own, plus it would cost him his job.”

“Oh, Jitka?”

Jitka wiped tears from her cheeks. “Marek brought me what savings he had, sixty dollars. I gathered you up one night, stole your birth certificate from Sister Anne’s office, and snuck us out of the convent. You see, my dear, I was still underage. Marek was waiting. He saw us to a train station where little Therese and I departed for Andalusia, Alabama. Marek still curses the day he did it. He said he was young and foolish, but I was too.”

Jitka’s voice cracked, “Therese, there is no Gantry, Alabama. I spent what money we had on food and lodging as we desperately traveled about the area, asking about a man named David Smith who was in the Navy. Some were kind to me at first, but when they discovered that I was unmarried, they were tired of my presence. The money ran out. I had no place to stay, and the nights were getting cold. Without food, I could not produce milk for you, my sweet baby.”

Finally, exhausted and cold, I went and sheltered in a cloister at the Catholic Church. You had quit crying. That terrified me, but somewhere in the night, I passed out. The church’s priest came upon us the next morning. He made me some breakfast and listened to my story. He advised me to give you up to a protestant orphanage that was located south of his church. It was an hour’s drive. We traveled to the orphanage. They seemed like kind people. The other children there were clean and well-fed. I signed their documents and handed over your birth certificate to them. The priest drove me to a train station and gave me forty dollars. He told me to go home and ask my father for forgiveness.”

“Is that what you did?”

“Heavens no. I got off the train in Tennessee and found work as a waitress. I moved around a lot. I made good money waitressing in speakeasies, but I was never a floozy. I became a good seamstress making my own clothes and mending or altering my friends’ clothing. I traveled to Atlantic City in 1927 because I heard the tips were attractive. That was true, but the work was grueling, and the Depression really threw us all a curve. I went by Rudolph and Ruby’s dress shop one day, asking if I could do some sewing for them. They gave me a try and liked my work. They hired me full time in 1931. I was glad to be rid of waitressing to drunks and mashers.”

They sat in silence for minutes. Therese asked, “Why didn’t you ever write to me?”

“Oh, Therese, I thought a nice family would have long since adopted you, and if not, I thought such a letter would just seem cruel.”

“Cruel?” Therese placed her face in her hands.

“This is a bold question, Therese, but might I ask why you never were adopted?”

Therese chuckled hopelessly, “I thought my mother would come to get me. So, I always did something off-putting when engaging with prospective couples. And frankly, later on, I loved my buddies at the orphanage so much, I didn’t want to leave them.”

Therese felt her mother had been tortured enough by life; she was not going to burden Jitka with her foster home experience. Therese simply told her mother that she lucked up and eventually found a happy home during her teenage years. “I lived with a widow and her two children on a little farm in south Alabama. We grew and sold vegetables and made and sold butter.” Jitka, I call her Momma and always will, but… may I call you Mother?”

Jitka moved to the couch, and they hugged and cried tears of absolute joy. After a while, Jitka asked, “What do you do now?”

“I’m a secretary at the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Washington D.C., and Carol is my roommate. We have a neat apartment.”

“What does she do?”

“Carol?” Therese needed to buy a second or two.

“Yes.”

“Well, she’s kind of a special teacher … she works for the government as well.”

“My goodness, my daughter works for the G-Men!”

“Who’d a thought, huh?”

“Would you come down and visit with me while I relieve Ruby?”

“Certainly, Mother.”

They walked downstairs and found Carol ringing up customers while Ruby bagged their items and kept the counters and shelves resupplied. Jitka and Therese jumped right in. Carol laughed with joy when she saw the happy smiles on the mother and daughter’s faces.


	4. No-Shows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/BlsVyGo)   
> 
> 
> A new high. One of these days, a 90!

Carol dropped Therese off at five-to-eight on Monday, February 21st. She hurried to the office. Therese couldn’t wait to tell Con about finding and meeting her mother. Therese thought Con might have already reached their office and made coffee; he often came in early on Mondays. Such was not the case. She loaded and started the percolator.

Therese poured her first cup and peeked down the hall. It was a quarter-after, and Con had never been this late. She wondered if he might have got called in for an early meeting, but his coat and hat were not on their stand. Therese tried Con’s home phone number, and as she thought would be the case, he did not answer. Con would have called her if he was under the weather, but she phoned personnel to make sure he had not called in sick. She checked with the switchboard for messages. There were none. She walked down the hall and checked with two of her peers, inquiring if they had seen Con. They had not.

At 08:30 a.m., she called the office of Con’s supervisor, Assistant Special Agent-In-Charge Needler. Needler’s secretary, Katrina Markham, listened to Therese but stopped her in mid-sentence. “Therese, hold on, Mr. Needler is free at the moment. I’m sure he’d prefer hearing this directly from you.”

Therese calmly and concisely informed ASAC Needler of Con’s absence and all the steps she had taken so far.

“That’s excellent work, Miss Belivet. You have saved us a lot of time. We’ll get right on this. You stay at your desk and by your phone… call Katrina if you hear anything.”

“Yes, Sir … oh, Mr. Needler.”

“Yes.

“This may be nothing, but—”

“No, everything is important, Miss Belivet … what?”

“Well, you may have been at the same meeting on Friday afternoon, but just in case, Agent Slate was called in to meet with Mr. Hoover at two on Friday.”

“No, I left at noon on Friday with an impacted wisdom tooth. There are interoffice envelopes from the director in my box. They probably pertain to that. Thank you, Miss Belivet. Stay close, young lady.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Therese was too worried to create or find any busy-work. Con would have normally piled real work on her desk by this time of the morning. She just sat anxiously. She usually didn’t smoke in the office unless Con invited her to have a cigarette with him. Carol had given her a few of the Craven “A” smokes for her case. She lit one, and nervously tapped her fingers. The phone rang. She snatched up the handset and answered. Her heart sank when the voice was not Con’s.

“Therese, this is Don. I wanted to give you a heads up. Needler and I are coming down to talk with you.”

“Oh, Don, I don’t like this.”

“No, no, Therese. We don’t have bad news. That’s just it. We don’t have any news. Nobody is as close to Con as you and me. We just want to go over the last few weeks in detail and brainstorm with you.”

“Okay, Don. Do I need anything?”

“I tell ya what, Therese, have your pad and pen ready. It’s time we started documenting things.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Therese was glad that Senior Special Agent Donald Thrice was involved. Con had trusted him with his life more than once and vice versa. A funny thought managed to burn through her fog of concern. The Washington agents had a tennis league. Thrice and Slate were considered the doubles pair to beat. The other agents jokingly called them “Don-Con.” 

Don, Needler, and Katrina entered a few minutes later. Don closed the door and announced, “Therese, we brought Katrina along to take notes; we don’t want you distracted.”

“Certainly … would you rather meet in Con’s office?”

Needler stated, “No … as a matter of fact, we’re going to seal it.”

“Oh, my.”

“Have you been in there this morning?”

“I just glanced in a couple of times looking for any sign of his already coming and going over the weekend or this morning.”

“There were no signs of that?"

"Correct."

Is his desk locked?”

“I’m sure it is. Of course, I never try to open any of his drawers or file cabinets without his direction, but I would be shocked if everything is not locked; Con is a stickler for security.”

Con kept four chairs in this outer office for meeting with his team. Don grabbed two of those chairs and placed them at Therese’s desk for Katrina and Neelder; then he fetched another for his own use.

Needler deferred to Don, “Don, go ahead.”

“Yes, Sir… Therese, did you notice anything unusual about last week or the week before?”

“No, Sir. They were good weeks … well, as I mentioned, the meeting with Mr. Hoover was unexpected.”

“Of course. How about Con? Was he feeling okay last week?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Anything different at all, Therese … think about it … anything?”

Therese considered carefully for a few seconds. “Well, just some personal things.”

“I know that seems a pry, but it might mean something.”

“He had a date planned for Friday a week ago, but the woman’s secretary called on Friday morning and canceled. Naturally, he was bummed about it.”

“Who was the woman?”

“The editor of Doll magazine… Margaret Shannon.”

Don and Needler looked at one another and nodded. “We were at that same party at which he met her. My wife and I were tickled that they seemed to be hitting it off.”

“Yes, he was excited about the date.”

“Did he mention any further contact with her over this past week?”

“No, Sir. Actually, I started to ask him about it but felt it best for him to mention it if he wanted to.”

There was a knock on the door. Katrina stood and opened it. An agent trainee handed her a note. She glanced at it and nodded, then closed the door. She returned to her seat and handed the note to ASAC Needler. Needler read in and sighed, “Don, the regional calls have come up negative.”

“Dang…”

“Yeah … it was worth a shot.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Therese spoke up, “Don, you said anything?”

His eyes lit up. Therese could see the yearning in his expression for some clue to his friend’s disappearance. “That’s right, Therese.”

“Con was so disappointed by that cancellation. I invited him over for dinner with my roommate and me.”

“Carol Aird?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Needler asked, “Let’s see, Carol Aird helped us with the Commuter Killer, right?”

“That’s correct, Sir.”

“She’s with Dr. Sinclair over at OSS now, isn’t she?”

“Right again, Sir.”

Needler looked at Therese, “Did he say anything that night that might stand out, Miss Belivet … business or personal?”

“I forbid shop talk. No, Sir. We just had a great time preparing a meal together, eating, and then listened to some records and talked. He went home at ten.”

Don was born and raised in Georgia; he confirmed, “Y’all still at the Potomac?”

“Yes, Sir.”

There was silence for a moment.

Katrina gave Therese an “I’m sorry, hun” look. Therese responded with the slightest of a nod.

Therese asked, “Speaking of Carol Aird, I almost called her this morning. I just wanted her to ask Dr. Sinclair if she had heard or seen anything of Con over the weekend. It would be an innocent request, but an interagency matter nonetheless. So I hesitated.”

Needler commented, “That’s interesting. What do you think, Don?”

“At this point, it couldn’t hurt, Sir. I mean, we go way back with Janice.”

“Go ahead, Miss Belivet. Do you mind calling while we are here?”

“Not at all, Sir.”

Therese dialed Dr. Sinclair’s number.

A woman answered on the other end, “Marchman’s Designs!”

“Helga, this is Therese. May I speak to Carol or Janice?”

“Hi, sweetie. Both are available. They could pick up on speaker in there.”

“That would be great.”

“Just a sec.”

“What’s up, T?”

“Hi, Carol. Can Janice hear me?”

“Yes?”

“Good. Y’all, Con has not come in for work today. Agents Needler and Thrice are here with me. We have not been able to contact him in any form or fashion. I asked them if I could call you two and ask if either of you has heard from him… over the weekend or this morning.”

There was a pause, then Janice asked, “Therese, Janice here, I hate to hear this. That is not like our Con. Most disconcerting, but to answer your question… no, I haven’t seen or heard from Con in weeks.”

Carol interjected, “I just waved at him on Friday when I picked you up, Therese.”

“Okay, well, please call me or any of us if you hear from him.”

“Will, do.”

“Good-bye.”

“Bye-bye.”

Needler said, “Thank you, Miss Belivet.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Don, let’s go kick this up the line. They need to know one of our agents is missing.”

Don looked at Therese as they all stood. “Therese, hang tough. We’ll find him.” He sighed because he knew it was futile to tell the dedicated assistant not to worry.

*****

Janice and Carol hurried down to their basement firing range. They found Phil working with a struggling trainee. “Sergeant, do you have a moment.”

“Sure, Dr. Sinclair,” Phil told the rookie to take a break. He watched as the young man competently cleared his weapon, placed it on the shooting bench, and exited the range. Phil stepped to Carol and Janice and chuckled, “Well, at least he’s got that down pat… if I can just teach him to hit the broadside of a barn.”

Janice reassured, “I’m sure you’ll get him up to speed.”

“Y’all look antsy; what’s up, ladies?”

Janice glanced at Carol then to Phil. “Have you seen Con lately?”

Hmm, no… wait, I didn’t speak to him at the time, but I saw him Saturday morning; he was buying gas on Ross Avenue.” Phil paused for a minute. He had to be cautious at this point because of another weekend tryst with Janice. “I was driving to a bakery near there. They make one big batch of doughnuts on Saturdays and sell 'em until they're gone. Great doughnuts! Any other day, I might have swung in and said hi to him, but I didn’t want to miss out on that burger.”

Carol asked, “Sammy’s D.C. Café?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Do you recall the brand of the station?”

“Boron.”

Janice, appreciating her lover’s reticence, played along, “What time was that, Phil?”

“Oh, maybe half-past-one … or a bit later.”

“So he didn’t see you or wave or anything?”

“That’s right. Hey, is something wrong?”

After another glance between them, Carol replied, “Con did not come into work this morning. Therese called us a few minutes ago. The FBI is cooking over this one.”

“Shit, they should be cookin’!”

The women both noticed Phil’s total change in demeanor.

“Con would never do something like this of his own accord. He ain’t like that. He’s either out cold, restrained, or… oh, fuck! We gotta do somethin’, y’all!”

Janice grabbed his hand. “Now, Phil, calm down. I think we better just wait until the FBI has time to work this.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Carol decided to distract him, “Phil, what was Con dressed like yesterday?”

“What? Oh, uh… not a suit and tie or overcoat. He had on corduroys and that old Cossack suede jacket he likes to knock around in.”

“Not that warmly dressed for an extended outing or a trip.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Carol, let’s give Therese a call and let her know about this.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes, Phil, for right now. We’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”

“Dang, y’all.”

“Phil.”

“Okay, but—”

“We’ll let you know ASAP, sweetheart.”

Carol paused at Janice’s saying “sweetheart” despite her frequent use of the address. It was the expression on her face when she said it.

*****

Right at noon, Don Thrice walked into Therese’s office. “Good, I’m glad I caught you before you went to lunch.”

“I was just going to stay here, Don. I can’t eat anything.”

“I hear, ya. Hey, how about taking a drive with me?”

“A drive?”

“Yep, let’s go talk to the folks at that gas station on Ross.”

“Oh, where Phil said he saw Con?”

“That’s right. Grab your coat and hat.”

As Therese walked to the coat stand, she stated, “I better tell Penny.”

“Don’t worry about it, girl; I told her you’re with me the rest of the day.”

“The rest of the day?”

“Well, I want us to be able to follow our noses. You've had the Con FBI class; now it's time for the Don FBI class. Needler told me to work on this lead independently. Four other agents are checking with his neighbors and family.”

“But, I feel funny about this, Don. This is agent stuff.”

“C’mon, Therese. I can use a woman’s intuition on this. Especially one that is close to Con.”

In the car, Therese thought out loud, “Close to Con.”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry, but is anybody really close to Con?”

“I know what you mean, hun; he’s not a sharing sort, is he?”

“Understatement.”

They parked on the street near the Boron station. They did not want to block their service lane. A payphone was nearby. Con directed, “Therese, wait in the warm car a minute. I’m going to check back in just in case anything has surfaced. We set up a hotline for this.”

“Okay.”

She watched Don enter the booth and start his call. She thought what a big guy he was, at least six-three and 250 pounds.

Don returned to the car, opened her door, and whispered, “Nothing big, but they said that his apartment looks undisturbed. The door and windows were secure, and there was no sign of his billfold, watch, keys, firearm, or badge.”

“That’s all good, isn’t it.”

“Yes, but it raises more questions than answers.”

He offered his hand. “C’mon, Therese, let’s see if these folks can be of any help.”

She clasped his gloved hand, as big as a bear’s paw, and exited the vehicle. As they entered the station, an older gentleman looked up from behind the cash register.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Don tried to be open whenever possible. “I hope so, sir.” Don showed his badge explaining, “I’m Special Agent Don Thrice. Miss Belivet, here, and I are trying to locate a missing person. He was last seen filling up here Saturday at around ten in the morning.”

“Really? Damn, the Feds. I gotta say I can’t help ya … ya see, I wasn’t working yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“But, my son was.”

“Is he available?”

“Yes, sir … he’s finishing up on an oil change. Follow me. Be careful, ma’am, don’t get any of this mess on ya.”

“Thanks. Is this your station?”

“Yes, ma’am … well, me and my boy’s.”

The proprietor approached a Chevy. He got down on his knees and called into the grease pit, “Cliff, can you come up here for a minute. Some folks from the FBI are looking for a feller that was here yesterday.”

“Say what, Daddy?”

“You heard me, son, get on up here.”

“A lanky twenty-something fellow emerged from the pit. He nodded anxiously at Therese and Don.”

Impressively clear, the father said, “Cliff, this is Special Agent Thrice and a Miss Belivet. They are with the FBI. They wouldn’t be wasting time, so listen up and see if you can help them out.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hi, folks.” He raised his blackened hands as if to apologize for not being able to offer a handshake.”

Therese saw the same kindness and sincerity in his eyes that she had spotted in his father.

Don asked, “Cliff, we are trying to contact a friend of ours; he was last seen here yesterday afternoon.”

Cliff glanced at his father, “You said 01:30, Daddy?”

“Yep.”

“He thought a second or two then exclaimed, “Oh, heck, y’all mean, Agent Slate?”

Therese’s eyes opened wide while Don’s turned into a hawk-like squint.”

“You know Connor Slate, Cliff?”

“I do. He comes by all the time.”

The father added, “Yeah, Con’s done business with us for years. Don’t tell me something’s happened to him. He’s aces.”

“Well, I’m not at liberty to discuss the details at this time. It’s just that we’d like to locate him.”

“Okay.”

Cliff was taken by Therese’s beauty and was embarrassed when he realized his gaze had lingered. She rescued him, “Cliff, I’m Therese. Did Con seem okay?”

He looked down at the floor as if an image was in the accumulated grime. Cliff shot his eyes back at hers. “No!”

She asked, “No?”

“No, ma’am, he is usually smiling and joshing with me about my sports favorites. You see, I’m a Yankees and Joe Louis fan, and he likes the Dodgers and Johnny Davis.”

“That he does, Cliff,” smiled Don.

Cliff nodded at Don with a grin, then his expression dropped, “Agent Slate wasn’t like that yesterday. He seemed worried and… well, like his mind was somewhere else. Hey, Daddy, he even drove off without his change! I put it in an envelope with his name on it underneath the cash drawer.”

A moist-eyed Therese glanced at Don. Don patted her arm. They both turned to Cliff when the young man added, “I wonder if it was something to do with that woman?”

Don blurted, “What woman?”

“Oh, he was traveling with someone, they pulled in together. This gal was in a Cadillac. She pulled up at the pump first. Agent Slate jumped out and asked me to top her tank off, and then he told her that he would pay and said goodbye to her. She pulled off, and then I started filling his car.”

“Have you ever seen this woman before?”

“No, Sir, but I didn’t think much about it at the time, though; he’s dated different gals over the years.”

Therese asked, “What did she look like, Cliff.”

“Pretty, maybe thirty, blonde… I couldn’t see much of what she was wearing because she stayed in the car. I will say that fur coat of hers looked expensive.”

Don and Therese asked a few more questions with less beneficial results. They bid the men goodbye after Don cautioned them to not discuss this matter with anyone but the FBI.

In the car, Don pulled his notebook and documented the exchange.

Therese left him to his task. When he finished, he asked, “Therese, have you ever met or seen a picture of Margaret Shannon?”

“No, Sir.”

“Well, that description fits her.”

“And couple-hundred other gals in D.C.?”

He smirked. “Good point, but let’s call on the offices of Drake Publishing Company, Miss Belivet.”

"And more specifically, Doll magazine’s floor?”

“Mm-hmm.”

At Drake Publishing Company, Don’s credentials blew them upstairs and to the office of Editor, Margaret Shannon. Therese recognized the secretary’s New England accent from the cancellation phone call of Friday-week-ago. Therese was determined to let Don do all the talking unless he addressed her directly.

After Don identified himself, the young woman excused herself, and with Don’s card in hand, she stepped down the hall. She returned with a rotund middle-aged gentleman in tow.

“Hello, Special Agent Thrice. My name is Gates Bogg. Please step into my office.”

He welcomed them, and after closing his door, he gestured them to chairs at a worktable. There was no desk as such.

“Is Miss Shannon unavailable?” asked Don.

“Well, Agent Thrice, this is most disconcerting … she’s not here. We have not heard from her today.”

“Really?

“Yes, it’s not that unusual for Mags to be late, but not this late… and she always calls in. Also, I must add, we are under the gun this week. The deadline for the next issue is Friday. She has not answered her home phone. I know one of her neighbors, Johnetta Ledbetter. I called her and requested she knock on our tardy editor’s door.”

“No luck?”

“That is correct. There was no sign of life from the apartment. My God! That was a poor choice of words. My apologies.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Bogg. I guess those close to Miss Shannon call her Mags.”

“Yes, but a note of caution, said personage must be really close.”

“Noted.”

“Mr. Bogg, may I use your phone to call the office. It will just take a minute.”

“Certainly, Sir,” Gates picked up the phone and waited a moment. “Linda, I have a visitor that needs an outside line. Done? Fine, thank you.” He passed the handset to Don.

Don told an outside operator the hotline number. He waited impatiently for the connection standing at the far edge of the table.

Gates gazed at Therese, “My, my, I didn’t know the FBI are recruiting such pretty agents these days.”

“Oh, well, thank you, but I’m not an agent.”

“Not an agent?”

“No, I’m a secretary.”

“Well, if you ever want to do some modeling, dear girl, I’ll make you famous.”

“Therese coyly smiled and feigned interest in a painting on the wall.”

“He persisted, “Ah, what a profile! And that visage with just a smidge of makeup, I can only imagine what Rick and Fawn could do with that face. I’m serious; you are blessed, darling.”

“Well, once again, thank you, but I love my work at the Bureau.”

“Very well, but here’s my card. What’s your name?”

“Therese… Therese Belivet.” She took the card and glanced at it.

Dreamily he echoed, “Therese Belivet … how exotic is that?”

Don had finished with the phone, and he handed it to Gates. “Hey, man, quit trying to steal our talent.”

Now Therese fully blushed.

The men laughed.

Gates coughed away the laugh and asked Don with a serious glance, “May I inquire at to what brought you and the charming Miss Belivet to our offices today?”

“Ironically, we are trying to locate an associate as well.”

“Oh, oh … Mags mentioned a new crush, an FBI agent, with a severe sounding name.”

“Slate?” said Don.

“That’s it! This is getting scary, folks.”

“Mr. Boggs, can you give me some idea as to how we could gain access to Mrs. Shannon’s apartment?”

“I have a key. I water her plants when she is out of town.”

“You must be close.”

“Oh, we are. She was a model originally and did a little acting. I was her agent. And, she’s a hell of a writer. We shared a dream of developing a cutting edge magazine; we’re a match-made-in-heaven. That is, of course, in a business sense.”

“How old is she?”

“Sir, she’ll kill me, but I guess that kind of info is at you peoples’ fingertips anyway. Margaret Shannon is a deceptively younger-looking thirty-five.”

Gates stepped to his overcoat. It was draped over a couch on the far wall. He pulled a set of keys from the pocket. “Let’s see; Mags was kind enough to paint the letter “M” on her key with pink nail polish. Here it is.” Gates checked once more with his departments to make sure no one had heard from “Mags.”

Don asked that Gates keep things confidential. Gates promised compliance with a deathly serious nod. Don said he would have the key couriered back as soon as possible. Gates told him not to worry and keep it as long as needed.

“Mr. Bogg, I’ll probably be sending a couple of agents by with a list of questions about Miss Shannon’s daily routines, habits, friends, and associates.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Mr. Thrice; I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

Don paused, “If I may, Mr. Bogg, why did you and Miss Shannon not locate in New York … I mean—”

“I understand… yes, it’s a good question and a common one. Honestly, we both hate the “Big Apple” in many ways. Also, Drake has always concentrated on politics and sports; they wanted to diversify. They wanted us here badly. That said, we do maintain an office in Manhattan. Mags and I are up there frequently for fashion shows and interviews with designers and manufacturers … you know, anybody in the biz.”

As they departed the publishing company, Therese glanced at the business card again before putting in in her purse. Don caught it. “You know he’s right.”

“Who … what?”

“Bogg … you could be a model.”


	5. Sunday Service

On the morning of Sunday, the 27th, Therese and Carol lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It was after eight, late for them to rise. Carol glanced at Therese and asked, “How long have you been awake?”

“Maybe an hour.”

“You?”

“A few minutes.”

“I don’t know what to do, Carol.”

“What can we do, darling … didn’t Don tell you on Friday that they had nothing?’

“He would have never told me that directly, but I overheard him reporting that to Mr. Needler on the phone from the other room at Con’s apartment.”

They rolled into each other’s arms, tucking their faces into one another’s necks and hair. Carol murmured, “What time of day did you say y’all went to the apartment?”

“It was in the afternoon. He came by the typing pool and signed me out. Don said he wanted a 'clear, fresh, yet familiar gaze' of Con’s place.”

“I’ve got to hand it to the man; he respects you.”

“I guess so, but he just seemed to droop when for the life of me, I couldn’t spot anything awry.”

“It must be a drudge being assigned to the typing pool.”

“Oh … it’s fine. It’s nice to be busy, and I don’t think I mentioned this, but twice they had me cover for regular secretaries who had called in sick.”

“Good … a change of scenery.”

“Yes, but I tell you what, it made me appreciate Con that much more.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart … not that you appreciate Con, but rather, the fact that he’s missing.”

Therese wept, “Oh, Carol, I’m worried sick about him. I have this horrible feeling that he is dead.”

“Now, Therese, we can’t think that. We have to hope for the best.”

Carol held Therese tight until the sobbing resided. After a few minutes, Carol took a deep breath, then suggested, “Love, let’s make some eggs.”

*****

Janice awoke from a bad dream. Her neck was stiff. She took a second to recall where she was. She had fallen asleep in the front seat of her Buick with her head resting on Phil’s chest with his arm around her. She was glad they had taken a blanket. It was freezing in the vehicle.

He asked, “You okay, Doc?”

“Yes … It was a nightmare. Shit, I hate that one.”

“Oh, me, one of those that visit like an old friend.”

“Yes … well, definitely not an old friend … a foe, rather.”

He did not ask about the details of the dream. Phil respected dreams, and he believed a person should best share them of their own accord. Janice was obviously going to keep this one in the closet.

Phil took his soggy handkerchief and wiped the windshield once more. Their breathing had repeatedly fogged up the windshield throughout Saturday night’s, and now Sunday morning’s “stakeout.” They regretted not bringing a couple of dishrags or the like for clearing the condensation.

“Were you asleep too, Phil?”

“No, I’ve managed to stay awaked ever since I spelled you.”

“God, I don’t know how you managed that.”

“I pretended I was back on Guadalcanal and had the watch. A Jap lurking in the darkness with a bayonet is … well—”

“I understand.”

“Any movement at all?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Well, we’re kind of standing out now given that it’s a weekend morning on a secondary street. And I’m hungry! Let’s find some breakfast and then go to your place and fuck.”

“Doc, you’re a piece of work.”

“A good piece of work or a bad piece of work?”

“A naughty one.”

She chuckled, put her hand on his crotch, and kissed him.

“Mm, lady, you— what the Hell?”

Startled, Janice shifted her eyes to where Phil was staring.

They watched as Gates Bogg departed the object of their surveillance, a single-story art studio, and walked down the street at a rapid pace.

“From Therese’s description, that’s Bogg,” stated Janice.

“And just how the hell did he get in there without us seeing him.”

“My guess is he arrived before we got here.”

“I guess so. He could have left work around five, grabbed something to eat, and got here before we arrived at six-thirty. I wonder where he slept? If he slept at all.”

“He’ll be out of sight in a lickety-split … but the car is bound to spook him.”

“Well, darling, in that case, I’m glad I wore my comfy clothes and walking shoes. I’ll slip out and tail him. It’ll just be some Washington broad out for her Saturday morning walk … all I lack is a dog.”

“Actually, that is a great idea. I can keep eyes on the studio and see if anyone else comes or goes … but, dammit, you gotta be careful, woman!”

“Oh, I will, sweetheart. Do you think you can hear that payphone over there?”

“I do … I’ll crack the window. Do you have that scrap of paper with its number on it?”

“Yes, Gunny.”

“Where?”

“It’s in my jacket pocket.” She fished around and produced the evidence.

He smirked. “Hurry then!”

She pecked his lips and was off. He watched her dart across the street; then, she slowed to a race-walking pace. He uttered to himself, “Geez Louise, Doc, that is one fine little ass.” He turned his attention back to the studio and shivered a bit as a gust shot through the gap at the top of the window.

*****

Therese insisted on doing the dishes while sending Carol off for her shower. They skipped the gym; neither was up for it. Therese dried her hands and hung the towel on its drying bar. She walked into the bathroom to find Carol stepping from the bathtub. Therese shed her pajamas and stepped into the tub. Carol winked at her as she closed the curtain. The hot water felt good, enveloping her in a luxuriant massage. She did not notice Carol slip in around the end of the curtain.

Carol stepped up behind Therese and ran her hands up Therese’s tummy and onto her slippery breasts. Therese was startled for about a half-second. She wriggled back into Carol’s embrace, exciting her lover even more. Carol half-spun her partner and drove her mouth onto Therese’s. The water poured down their heads, making them fight for gasps of air. Therese cupped Carol’s vagina in her hand and pressed the heel of her hand firmly against Carol’s clit while her fingers played lower and deeper.

Carol gently ran a finger into Therese’s rear. Therese’s eyes popped open as she gasped. Carol worked the new spot assertively. After a few minutes, Carol flipped her hand up under the showerhead and pressed Therese against the green tiles. Carol ran her fingers up and into Therese’s pussy. Therese had unceasingly been working Carol’s cunt into a twitching love pocket. Up and down and side to side, they slid along the shower wall until they started coming. Under the hot stream, a lengthy swaying embrace followed their lovely explosions.

Therese whispered in Carol’s ear, “Thank you, I needed that.”

“I know, Kitten; I did too.”

*****

Three blocks from where he started, Gates took a left around a corner. Janice eased to the corner, but as she prepared to peek around it, she heard tires screech followed by shouts and cursing. Her reactive glance around the corner found Gates Bogg, about a hundred feet away, struggling with two thuggish looking heavies trying to force him into their Ford sedan. Janice pulled her Walther PPK from her jacket pocket, thumbed the safety off, and cocked the hammer for a precise, single-action first shot. She covered the distance to the scuffle in seconds without either assailant noticing her. Janice halted a few feet from the nearest goon and assumed an isosceles firing stance. “Stop! Release that man!” barked Janice. The hood underestimated the woman confronting him and took his right hand to a pistol grip protruding from his waistband at his appendix. Janice smoothly put two 7.65mm projectiles in his forehead. The other creep originally had his back to Janice. As he spun to engage the threat, she fired four times into his center of mass. Stunned, he collapsed to his knees then rolled into the gutter.

Janice pointed her pistol's muzzle threateningly at Gates but the magazine publisher, cowering on his knees, had his hands raised in abject terror. She closed, and with her pistol in her strong hand, she grabbed his overcoat collar with her weak hand. With her tug, he rose to his feet. Janice glanced at her victims. The first fellow was dead or unconscious and dying. Number two had managed to rise on all fours like a big bulldog. She put two quick rounds in the back of his head. He collapsed face down.

“Damn! Who are you, lady?”

“Your savior … I surmise.”

Janice pulled him along back towards her point of origin. “Mr. Bogg, come along now. You are not safe on your own.”

At the corner, Phil braked the Buick and steered to the curb. He had heard the shots and rushed to the source. Phil put the car in neutral and applied the parking brake. He jumped out and helped his boss shove Gates into the back seat. Janice slipped in next to Gates with her weapon still pointed in his general direction. “Drive, Phil! Hurry!”

Phil complied. Instinctively, he sped three blocks north then two blocks east, followed by four more blocks north. “Where to, Doc?”

“Shit, I don’t know. Do we have anybody close to here? We have to get off the street.”

As Phil pondered her question, Janice smoothly applied the hammer-drop-safety of her Walther, then she ejected her pistol’s magazine and saw that it contained only one round. She slipped it into her weak side jacket pocket, swapping it for the full magazine that nestled there. She inserted the at-capacity magazine and gave Gates a stern look. Gates watched all this numbly.

Phil had come up with a suggestion. “C and T are two blocks from here, and they have basement parking.”

“Well, isn’t that fucking convenient? Do it.”

“They have assigned parking slots, but I doubt if all of them will be full on Sunday morning.”

“Church?”

“Bingo!”

Janice glanced at Gates, “I bet you wish you were in fucking church, huh?”

“You sound German.”

“Well, check out the big brain on Gates!”

Phil laughed then asked, “Hey, Doc, what happened back there?”

“Oh, yes … well, two fellows pulled up and were trying to kidnap our man here.”

“No, shit! What did you do?”

“I pointed Herr Walther at them and demanded they let this fucker go. One of them went for his pecker pistol, so I shot him. The other one seemed to want some, so I shot him as well.”

“Holy shit, Doc! Are you sure they weren’t cops?”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Well, you picked the right time for a gunfight. That street was dead as a hammer.”

“Yes … all retail and closed for the Sabbath.”

“I knew you carried a weapon, Doc, but … you're … you're as calm as a cucumber. You’ve killed before.”

“Yes … often.”

“Wha … when was—”

“Not now, Phil Darling, perhaps another day.”

Phil glanced in the rearview mirror and caught her steely gaze. He concentrated on the turns.

“What do you people want with me?” asked the blubbering Gates.

“Hold the questions for a sec, sweetie.”

Phil took the Buick down into the Potomac’s parking garage. He found a spot near his friend’s car. “Doc, we’ll get him upstairs, then I’ll come back down and put your buggy on the street, so some old lady doesn’t get pissed and call the apartment manager.”

“Excellent, Phil.”

The elevator did not run to the garage. Phil suggested, “Let’s just go up the stairwell real quiet as not to alert that doorman.”

“Wait … I have a better notion. I’ll drive up and park on the street, then walk up and engage the doorman. I’ll ask him to call up to the girls. While he’s distracted, you walk our friend up to four.”

“Sounds like a plan, Doc.”

Carol opened her door to greet Janice.

Phil chimed, “Nice look, Carol!”

Standing in her bathrobe and slippers with damp hair, she blushed at Phil McElroy. As to the stranger Phil held at gunpoint, she was lost.

Janice exited the elevator and raced to join them. Janice locked her eyes on Carol and instructed, “Let’s get inside, and I’ll explain everything.”

Inside, Therese was waiting in the same attire as Carol with a coffee cup in hand. Gates did a double-take on Therese. “Miss Belivet?”

“Mr. Bogg? Christ, Phil, why are you holding your gun on Mr. Bogg?”

He started to speak, but Janice hushed him. “Please, everyone, sit down, and I’ll explain how we ended up here, then we'll see if Mr. Bogg can help us find our missing Con? Oh, Therese, do you have any more of that coffee? I’m dying for a cup … and perhaps a sweet roll or toast.”

“Distractedly, Therese answered, “Sure, we just brewed a second pot. We made biscuits, will those do?”

Janice laughed and inhaled deeply through her nose, obviously detecting evidence of baking. “Thank God for Southerners! Yes, darling, a biscuit with butter would be outstanding.” Janice examined Therese then Carol; the couple’s tousled hair and robes enthralled the bisexual Dr. Sinclair. “Fun morning, ladies? You two look scrumptious.”

Carol smirked at Janice.

As they sat, ate biscuits, smoked, and drank coffee, Janice and Phil filled Carol and Therese in on the morning’s events. Gates had decided to speak when spoken to. He took the coffee Therese served but waved off a biscuit; his butterflies would not have it. At one point, Therese sarcastically asked Gates, “I guess this nixes the modeling career?”

Carol asked, “What modeling career?”

Therese laughed, and with the handguns, all tucked away, Gates even managed a smile.

Enjoying the moment, Therese continued, “Oh, Mr. Bogg said I have potential. He gave me his card.”

Janice blurted, “Good for you, Bogg, she does.”

Phil added, “Yep.”

Therese chuckled.

Carol protested, “Hey, let’s slow this train down. I think Therese is perfectly happy with her work, and she doesn’t need a bunch of folks ogling her.”

Janice teased, “Careful, Miss Aird, your green is showing.”

Embarrassed, Carol glanced down at her coffee cup. Therese reached over and patted Carol’s forearm. Gates put two and two together and now was even more fascinated by Therese.

Carol shook her head and changed the subject. “Janice, what took you to this studio?”

Janice smiled then answered; “Phil and I have been working Con’s case from the peripheral … in our spare time.”

Therese commented, “That’s sneaky; why didn’t you tell us?”

“We thought it more efficient for us to think independently. Rest assured, my dears, we were bringing you in if we uncovered any concrete leads.”

Carol and Therese nodded in guarded acceptance.

Janice continued, “Actually, I have met Margaret Shannon before. We have mutual Long Island acquaintances. One of them works for the State Department here in Washington, Molly Cox. I invited her out for drinks last Wednesday evening.”

Gates squinted at Janice. He knew Molly well from Margaret’s party circuit, but he had definitely never seen this stunning, yet lethal, ‘Doc’ before today.

“Molly chitchatted about everything, everybody, their brother, and his dog, but I finally managed to get her onto the subject of the missing Miss Shannon. I felt like the old western prospector finding El Dorado when Molly blurted that she had seen ‘Mags’ that weekend.”

Carol leaned in. “You mean the weekend they both went missing?”

“Yes, my dear … that Saturday. As Molly was returning from the market, she saw Miss Shannon arriving at the studio early that afternoon with a man she did not recognize. I subtly worked her through a description of him, and it matched Con to a T.” Janice shifted her attention directly to Gates. “What work do you and Miss Shannon do at this studio, Mr. Bogg? It’s listed at city hall as owned jointly by you and Margaret Shannon.”

“Before I answer, I want some answers.”

“Very well, go ahead.”

“Therese purports to be with the FBI. Let’s say I believe that for now.” Glancing at Carol, he asked, “Whom do you work for?”

Before Carol could speak, Janice answered, “She works for me at the OSS along with this gentleman.” Janice gestured towards Phil.

Gates stared at Carol and Phil as they offered single nods.

Janice asked, “Do you know what the OSS is, Mr. Bogg?”

“I haven’t a goddamned clue.”

“Good, we’ll keep it like that.”

“Fine, I’m sure it’s all dark, mysterious, and governmental.”

They all just stared at him. He asked Janice, “Why does the one-armed Mr. Handsome call you ‘Doc?’

“Let me introduce myself, “It’s nice to meet you, Gates. I’m Janice Sinclair, Ph.D. ... I'm not a physician. This is Carol Aird, Phil McElroy, and indeed, Therese Belivet of FBI employ.”

He reluctantly shook her hand but did not release it. “Why did those men try to force me into their car?”

Janice made one of her chameleon-like changes. Clasping his hand, she arose from her chair to perch at Gates's side on the couch. She put her arm around his shoulders. “We don’t know for sure, my sweet little man, but if you honestly answer a few questions, we might find out.”

“Okay, your turn.”

“The studio?”

“Oh, we keep it for work sessions with some of our more … let me call them less-conventional contributors, you know, the hip artists. We also do small photoshoots there. Frankly, the studio is a marvelous tax write-off. Owning it personally, we can charge the corporation usage fees, and with the depreciation, property tax, and insurance … well, you understand.”

“We do. Smart. Legit. Very well, were you aware that Margaret and was there with a man, possibly our missing FBI agent on the Saturday in question?”

“No … well, yes … look, she phoned me on Sunday morning and in passing, mentioned she had met with Mr. Slate at the studio the day before.”

“Okay, What did they meet about?”

“I’m honored that Mags feels trusting enough to confide in me, but sometimes, I wish she didn’t. I’m such a scaredy-cat.”

Janice patted his back, “What did she share that was so scary?”

“I don’t know the details. I guess she held back for my own protection.”

“Not a clue?”

“She’s being blackmailed.”

“By who … about what?”

“I don’t know.”

Therese asked, “So, that’s why she arranged for Con … Agent Slate to meet with her?”

“That … and, uh—”

“What?”

Gates shifted his eyes between Janice and Therese. “She’s taken with your ‘Con’ … they made love that day.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“No, but I could just tell. Mags called me around noon from the studio and said her FBI agent and her were meeting with the blackmailer. That's the last time I talked to her.”

Therese slumped back in her seat. Janice glanced at her, then asked Gates, "Is there a bedroom in the studio?

We have three nice little sets in the different corners: a bedroom, a living room, and a kitchenette. The other corner has a combination meeting and worktable. They would’ve had their pick.”

Therese asked, “So, she fucked him to enlist his help … to get her ass out of a jam?”

“No, Mags isn’t like that! You take that back!”

Carol stood and placed her hand on Therese’s shoulder. “Therese?”

Therese’s expression dropped. She sighed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bogg?”

Gates tilted his head to the side and asked Therese, “You care deeply for him, don’t you, dear?”

“I do.”

Janice redirected, "Gates, why were you there yesterday and why overnight?"

"Were you watching me?"

"Phil and I thought it a stretch, but with nothing else to go on, we decided to watch your studio. We showed up on Saturday evening."

"Oh, I see. Okay, I got home on Friday evening and found someone had slipped an envelope under my door. It was typed and unsigned. The message directed me to go to the studio on Saturday and wait for a phone call. I remember these next two sentences verbatim, 'Do not contact law enforcement.' and 'If you ever again want to see Margaret Shannon alive, wait for the call.' I was surprised they would have the studio's phone number; it's unlisted. I'll be damned if they hadn't actually typed it at the bottom of the letter letting me know they had it. I never received a call at the studio. I finally panicked and left after having been there for 24 hours. That's when you spotted me ... I guess. I don't drive or own a car, so I was going to walk home ... maybe catch a cab.

“Gates, I assume your attackers wanted information about Margaret or at least, wanted to take you to someone that did.”

“I guess so.”

“Do you have any idea what her blackmailers might have had on her?”

“I can’t imagine.”

Phil spoke up, “Look, Boggs, no hard feelings, but I gotta ask, “Did Miss Shannon ever date any questionable characters … gangsters, black-marketeers, crooked politicians, or the like.”

“It's alright, Mr. McElroy, but no, she really never dated fellas like that. She dated athletes, servicemen, and even a couple of actors. She liked to make the scene and have fun, but I can count the guys she had slept with over the years on a single hand. She seldom dated anyone more than once and never really fell for anybody. That’s why your agent friend stands out to me. She talked about him like she was a schoolgirl with a new beau.”

Janice asked, “Gates, it won’t be safe for you to return home, and can you call in sick tomorrow?”

“Hell, it’s all so screwed up with Mags gone anyway … sure.”

“You can stay at my house. Phil and I will keep you safe. Phil, can you sleepover for a few days?”

“Yes, Ma’am, I’ll just need to stop at my place and pick up a few things on the way over.”

Janice pondered aloud, “What do we do now? Where do we start?”

Carol suggested, “Let’s work it together,… like a team.”

Therese chimed in, “Absolutely! Like we did on the Commuter Killer.”

Gates exclaimed, “The commuter killer? That was you … you that caught her?”

“We did,” answered Therese.

“Well, Miss Belivet, perhaps Miss Aird is correct; fashion modeling might be a waste of your true talents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/rg2Ww74)  
> Janice's Jacket
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/8vWJMq5)  
> Sporty Janice
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/uJDrUio)  
> Pre-WW2 Commerical Walther PPK 7.65mm
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/hvVtCay)  
> [](https://imgur.com/7lj0jRL)  
> 1940's Robes


	6. Tom and Jerry

After much discussion and weighing of pros and cons, the group decided not to inform Donald Thrice of these latest events and their findings. First, Janice would have a double homicide on her plate, and second, they felt the FBI was too muscle-bound to handle this investigation with the finesse required. Unfortunately, Therese had to work days at the FBI, as did Janice, Carol, and Phil at the OSS.

Janice contacted an independent contractor. Gates agreed to hire the fellow as a bodyguard. Jessup Saver was a retired U.S. Marshall, long in the tooth but strong and savvy. The war had gobbled up most of the younger men previously performing such work.

The team members were all quite concerned as the week passed and Gates received no additional nefarious contacts.

At five-thirty on Wednesday, March 1, 1944, Carol drove from the OSS offices on Navy Hill to the Federal Building to pickup Therese. Instead of going home, they drove to Drake Publishing and gathered Gates. He bid Mr. Saver goodbye at the curb and got into the backseat. Therese had recently obtained a driver's license, and she took the wheel while Carol moved to the back seat with Gates. Phil had turned Carol into a competent hand gunner. Carol drew the revolver Janice had loaned her. She wanted to be ready in case another attack was launched on Gates. She requested a revolver because they were dirt simple, and unlike an automatic, they can be fired multiple times from inside a pocket, handbag, or sack without malfunctioning. The little .38-caliber Smith & Wesson Terrier only weighed 20 ounces when loaded with its five rounds. Phil insisted she only practice firing double-action. He had taught her to take a firm grip, hook the last joint of her pointer around the trigger, and smoothly pull through its glass-smooth arc. Each pull rotated the cylinder to the next chamber, cocked the hammer, and fired the round. “A nice smooth rhythm, sweetheart — bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!”

Gates smiled upon seeing her weapon and winked at her. “Did you ladies have a nice day?”

“We did, and you, sir?” replied Carol as her eyes darted about the streets and buildings surrounding them.

“It was hectic but productive. I hate to report that I’ve still had no calls or letters concerning our friends.”

It was cold and rainy. They hoped the night’s temperature would not dip below freezing and ice the roads.

At Janice’s, Phil darted out to walk them in. Carol glanced at Janice and asked, “Didn’t I just see you?”

Janice chuckled, “You did, but it’s always a pleasure. Hello, Gates.”

“Hi, Doc.” Gates had adopted Phil’s moniker for the mysterious German American. “Mr. Phil, how are you doing?”

Hello, Gates.

“Hidy, Bogg, I’m fine, and you.

“Good … my, what’s that heavenly aroma?”

Janice explained, “We don’t get a new ration book until tomorrow, so Hatch made a Hobo Stew out of everything left in the fridge.”

“Should I be fearful, dear?”

Janice smirked, “No, My Woman Friday is a sorceress in the kitchen.”

Therese hugged Janice and Phil.

Janice posed, “If ‘y’all’ are okay with it, I suggest we eat first and then get to work.” Finding no objections, she smirked, “However, we have time for a drink. Carol?”

“Okay, M’lady … martini’s, everyone?”

Phil chuckled, “I’ll get a beer from the icebox.”

They laughed as he departed for the kitchen.

The stew was delicious with potatoes, bits of roast beef, carrots, onions, stewed tomatoes, lima beans, some corn, and a few errant green beans. No bread was left, so Hatch dumped blobs of cornmeal in a skillet to make hoecakes. Beer bottles and wine glasses stood asymmetrically down Janice’s long dining room table. Enthralled with the meal, there was little talk and during dinner.

After dinner, they all chipped in to clear the table and help Hatch with the dishes.

The men walked the team’s corkboard from the study and placed it at the end of the table. They assembled around the table and began to chatter. The teacher took charge; Carol exclaimed, “Okay, shush everyone … one at a time! I’ll start with a review.”

Janice said, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Carol stepped up to the board and using a yardstick, she pointed to the upper left-hand corner where photos of Con and Margaret peered down on them. “No explanation is needed.” Moving the stick's tip to the right, she identified “the studio” from a snapshot. Next was a newspaper clipping dated Monday describing the shooting of two “yet to be identified gunmen” … I guess that’s all they had to go on … guns.”

“And, men …” added Therese dryly.

Gates started laughing, and helplessly, they all joined in.

After the welcome release petered out, Janice asked, “Did they really have no I.D., or are the police holding that back?”

Therese added, “I visited with Agent Thrice today. The FBI has in no way linked the shooting to their investigation of Con’s disappearance.”

The phone rang, and Janice answered it; she had sent Hatch off to her bed and radio. “Phil, it’s for you, a Sidney Bennett?”

“Oh, thanks, Doc.”

Sarcastically, she chimed, “Anytime Mr. McElroy as she handed him the handset.”

They pondered the board while Phil finished the call. He rushed back to the table, grabbed one of the note pads and pens then scribbled. The others watched anxiously. Phil tore the page from the pad and took it to the board. He pinned it next to the news clipping. “I’ve become good buddies with an old ex-Marine now a D.C. cop. He just called … sorry, Doc, I had to give him this number.

“Understood.”

“Anyway, he snooped around for me. The police are withholding the names of two thugs because their driver's licenses are fake … out of state.”

Therese asked, “What state?”

“States, Therese ... Mississippi and Louisiana.” Phil's note, in bold print, read, _Fake I.D_.

Carol asked, “What are their fake names?”

Phil shook his head. “Sid was not able to look at the driver's licenses, but one of the detectives working the shooting blabbered about them being fake.”

Janice said, “Nice work, Phil.”

“Thanks, Doc, by the way, the detectives are trying to dismiss it as gang-related … a mob hit.”

Janice grinned, “Sweep away, dear coppers.”

“God, I hate to inflate that ego anymore than it is, but Sid reported that his loose-lipped detective friend also said investigators think the shooter must have been a pro.”

Janice’s grin expanded, and she bowed. The others rolled up pieces of paper and threw them at her.

Later, Gates was struggling with an answer to a question Carol posed. With a shrug, he said, “I don’t know why anyone would be trying to extort money from our company. We don’t have deep pockets; we barely cover our expenses. Mags and I take minimal draws.”

Carol asked the group, “Could these blackmailers be that misinformed?”

Janice suggested, “Perhaps the blackmail was only a screen for something bigger.”

They all paused to listen as a bell chimed in the foyer. Janice clarified, “That must be Hatch; I hope she’s all right.” She hurried over to one of the houses 19th-century speaking tubes and spoke into it, then shifted her ear to receive a response through the apparatus. Janice listened intently for a few seconds to the voice on the other end. She shifted her mouth to the tube and said, “Thank you, Hatch, try to rest, darling.”

The others watched intently as Janice returned. “Hatch just told me that she has observed the same car travel up and down this street several times in the past hour. On its last pass, it pulled up and parked across the street in front of the Watts house.”

Phil asked, “It’s dark … how can she tell it’s the same car?”

“She said it makes a ‘tick’ sound every few yards.”

“A ‘tick’ sound?”

“That’s what she said, Phil.”

Phil hurried off to the study at the other end of the house. That room’s lights were out. He returned a moment later. Phil grabbed Janice and Carol’s handbags from the chair in which they always perched and sat them on the table. “Get your weapons, ladies. There are at least a couple of folks sitting in a black Ford in front of the Watts house. You can see them clearly from the darkened study. Doc, I think we should go out the back door, take your alley to the next street over, and circle to approach them from behind. Carol, you can stay here and guard the front door.”

“Take the offensive?” asked Janice.

He nodded in response.

Janice had drawn the PPK from her purse, and Carol now held the Terrier. Janice suggested, “Carol, let’s go take a peek from the study as well.”

Before Phil and Janice headed to the kitchen to exit, he said, “Carol, why don’t you get that matchbox out of your purse, the one I gave you with the five extra rounds in it.”

Carol complied and pulled the matchbox from her purse. She slipped it into her dress pocket.

Janice glanced at Therese, then halted Phil. “Wait a sec, Phil. She stepped to a little blind closet in her foyer. Underneath the staircase and with a door cut to blend, one would have had a hard time spotting it. Janice opened the door and rattled around in the tiny space for a moment. She called for Therese. Janice emerged and handed Therese an open breeched drilling. Therese thought it looked like a double-barreled shotgun but found it had three barrels instead of two.

Janice handed her two 12-gauge shotgun shells. “You know shotguns, correct?”

“I do.”

“Good, load the two large chambers and close the breech.”

Therese complied and held the fearsome weapon at port arms.

“That is my late father’s drilling; he hunted deer and boar with it in the Hürtgen Forest. The smaller barrel is for a rifle cartridge, but I’m keeping this simple.” With Therese watching closely, Janice shifted the selector switch to “S” for shotgun and flipped the safety switch up to block the triggers. “Now, it will operate just like any old double-barrel shotgun. If you need to engage the weapon, switch that safety off, then pull the front trigger for the right barrel and the back trigger for the left. Got it?”

“I do.”

“Fine, I hope you don’t need it.”

After Janice and Phil departed, Therese anxiously perched on a double bench in the foyer facing the entrance. Carol did the same in a straight-back chair across from her. Carol mouthed to Therese, “I love you.”

Therese smiled at her.

Gates crossed the foyer headed for the study. “Dammit, I’m going to make myself useful somehow; I’ll watch the baddies from the window and holler out to you gals if they head our way.”

Carol started to protest but relented and shrugged to Therese.

Janice and Phil kept their pistols concealed until they neared the Ford. They were a single vehicle’s distance from the thugs’ car. The couple knelt behind a Studebaker, and Phil whispered, “There are just two of them. I bet their car doors are unlocked. Let’s each take a side, open the doors simultaneously, and take ’em.”

“Okay. I’ll take the driver.”

“You, good?”

She nodded.

The doors swung open, and the passenger side fellow almost fell out. The driver raised his hands in surrender.

Gates sang out, “Here they come, ladies! They got ’em both!” He raced to the door, unlocked it, and opened it.”

Janice and Phil marched the cowed pair into the dining room. “Shit! I should have had a rope ready. Lay face down on the floor, you two.”

With Carol, Therese, and Phil pointing their firearms at the thugs, Janice went into the kitchen and returned with a bundle of parachute cord and a paring knife. She cut appropriate lengths and handed them to Phil. He soon had the detainees tied to a pair of Janice’s dining room chairs, ankles-to-legs, and wrists-to-arms.

They worked on them for hours: questioning, coercing, and even an occasional slap or kick. They had untied the men once around ten to let them relieve themselves, but they refused them food or water. The two captives refused to reveal anything of value. Janice studied their licenses and quickly declared that both the Colorado and Texas documents were bogus. From what little the men did say, Janice could detect no hint of a foreign accent.

At a quarter-of-eleven, Gates suggested everyone find a bed in the big house and get some sleep. He volunteered to take the first watch. He said he would come wake one of the others at midnight. Phil and Carol were still not 100% on Gates and subtly expressed concern about the little fellow standing guard.

Surprisingly, Janice quickly took Gates proposition to heart and assertively jotted down a guard schedule. She would set her alarm clock for twelve. Janice placed the list on the table, and all but Gates departed the dining room. Janice paused to glance thoughtfully at Gates.

At 11:25 p.m., Gates assessed the house and felt confident that everyone, including the thugs, were fast asleep. They had not entrusted him with a firearm, but Janice did leave him with Sin’s cricket bat to employ if needed.

Gates stood in front of his pair of toughs. He poked their foreheads with the cricket bat until they groggily came to. The fellow to his left was small, skinny, and had a nervous air. The oaf on the right was a large man with dumb eyes; Gates felt he was “dumb like a fox.” Much to the others' amusement, Gates called the large one Tom and the small one Jerry throughout the evening. Phil had gagged both men been.

“Wakey-wakey, gentlemen. It’s time to talk.” Gates shifted his gaze from one to the other, trying to decide. “Oh, I give up!”

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe  
Catch a tiger by the toe  
If he hollers let him go,  
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe  
My mother told me  
To pick the very best one  
And you are not it.

“Well, that’s appropriate … sorry, Jerry.” Gates swung the bat with all his might. _Thwack!_ Jerry’s head hung motionless, chin-on-chest. Gates waited a few seconds, solemnly staring at his victim. Blood began to ooze from Jerry’s eyebrow and ear. Gates patiently felt for a pulse. Gates turned to the terrified man on the right. “He’s gone bye-bye, Tom. You can join him or … not.” Gates winked at Tom.

Gates circled the chairs twice. He stopped in front of the gagging and squirming Tom. He asked, “Tell me where we can find Margaret Shannon and Connor Slate … alive or dead. Tell me, or so help me God, I’ll pop you just like Mr. Jerry.”

Tom shook his head frantically emitting muffled screams for help. Gates took a determined stance and prepared for his next swing. Gates began to nod like a bobblehead doll.

“Oh, good.” Gates lowered the bat. He carefully placed it on the table then grabbed a pad, pencil, and the paring knife. He addressed Tom, “I’m not removing your gag; you’ll yell for the others, and they will disrupt our conversation. No, that wouldn't do. So, do you write with your right hand?”

Tom stared blankly at Gates.

Pointing the knife at Tom’s face, Gates repeated sternly, “Do you write with your right hand?”

Tom nodded.

“Okay, then, I’m going place this pad and pencil in your lap then cut these bindings from your right hand. After your hand is freed, you will write three things on the pad: the address of the place at which they are detained, whether they are alive or dead, and if there are more of your cohorts there. By the way, we will go there immediately, and if you have lied, I will come back and kill you. Do you understand?”

Tom nodded.

After placing the pad and pencil in Tom’s lap, Gates stepped back cautiously and reached out to start cutting Tom’s binding.

Tom wiggled his sleeping fingers to return oxygen to his hand, then he began to write. Gates thought Tom was writing quite extensively; he hoped that was a good thing. When finished, Tom glanced apprehensively at Gates.

“Good, hand the pad and pencil to me.”

Gates moved to the table and slumped exhaustedly down into one of the chairs. He silently read the page.

_Baker Hardware_

_4000 block of Thompson Avenue here in DC_

_store is out of business and boarded up_

_the woman and man are in the basement_

_still alive yesterday_

_we have two men on the first floor - shotguns_

_a car comes at noon and midnight_

_the guards swap out_

“Well, Mr. Tom, aren’t you a veritable font of knowledge. Thank you, sir.”

Gates looked at Janice’s grandfather clock in the foyer. It was ten-to-midnight. He picked up one of the extra strands of cord from the table and neared Tom. “Now, lookie-here, you. I’ll stick this knife in your juggler if you even twitch while I’m tying your hand back down.”

Tom sighed and gave a single nod.

Gates began to wrap the cord tightly around Tom’s wrist. Tom jerked his hand loose and grabbed Gates's knife-wielding hand. The big man’s mitt engulfed Gates's much smaller and weaker hand. Gates thrust himself backward. Tom, complete with chair, was pulled over with a crash. Tom wrenched the blade from Gates's hand and thrust it in the publisher’s thigh. Gates screamed then jerked his beloved Waterman fountain pen from his shirt pocket. He bit the gold plated cap free and spit it off to the side. Gates plunged the pen’s spear-like tip into Tom’s left eye, withdrew it, then kept his promise. Blood spewed from Tom’s carotid artery after Gates made his second stab.

Tom released an unearthly groan and let the paring knife fall to the floor. Gates scooted away, kicking and screaming. Janice entered the room. Despite her past confrontations, the OSS ice-lady was taken aback by the carnage. She knelt by Gates and assessed his wound. Janice pulled his narrow leather belt and wrapped it around his thigh. She slipped the end through the buckle and pulled it tight, then pressed firmly down on the buckle.

Gates asked, “Is it that artery?”

“I don’t know, you little fool.”

“Doc, if it is, I only have minutes. The paper on the table … it’s the address.”

“What address?”

“It’s where Mags and Con are being held.”

She glanced at the table then Tom and Jerry.

Phil entered, followed by Therese and Carol. Phil gasped, “What the hell, Doc?”

Janice barked commands. “Phil, see if those two are dead. Carol check out the pad on the table. Therese, go make sure Hatch stays in her room.”

*****

Janice had one “spooky” firearm; it was equipped with an integral silencer. Through a shattered side window at Baker Hardware, Phil used the 0SS High Standard .22 pistol to head-shoot both of the henchmen. Janice and Phil found the backdoor unlocked. They made sure Phil’s targets were dead then located the door to the basement. At two in the morning and with flashlights in hand, Phil and Janice clambered down the building’s basement stairs to find Con and Margaret locked away in two separate supply closets. The haggard couple rambled incoherently. Janice conjectured, “They’ve been doped.”

*****

At the hospital, Carol explained to the attending physician how her silly houseguest, knife in hand, had stumbled while investigating a bump in the night. Therese held Mr. Bogg’s hand as he smiled dreamily at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/wnJRS6i)  
> Smith & Wesson .38 caliber Terrier revolver
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/dL8798i)  
> A Sauer Drilling
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/EcmErG7)  
>  Cricket, anyone?
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/n0QG35p)  
>   
> OSS Silenced High Standard .22 semi-automatic pistol  
> 


	7. A Mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks,
> 
> I missed you. It took some time, but I finally emerged from the maze known as _The Potomac_. The last chapter was posted way back on the 18th. This is complicated stuff. You may want to read Chapter 6 once more before tackling 7. I hope you enjoy the weave. Please don't hesitate to point out any of my mind farts: nonsequiturs, gaffs, misspellings, etc.
> 
> Stay safe and go vote if you haven't already,
> 
> Danny
> 
> [ ](https://imgur.com/LxktHq5)
> 
> [ ](https://imgur.com/9EiZsbS)
> 
>   
> [](https://imgur.com/jHqEmSC)  
> 

Carol pulled up in the back of Janice’s house at a quarter-to-four, and Phil stepped out to help her walk Gates inside. Janice stepped out and darted around them; she parked Carol’s car in the two-car garage next to her own vehicle. Upon entering her house, Janice found Phil and Carol helping Gates with his overcoat. Janice dropped Carol’s car keys in Carol’s coat pocket and stated, “Sin won’t be back for days. He drove his car to wherever the hell he was going, so your Plymouth will be fine in there. I locked your car doors.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’s Therese?”

“We thought it best she not call in sick. I dropped her at the Potomac. Thanks for calling the hospital and having them get me to a phone, Janice. The news about Con and Miss Shannon was such a relief to us. Therese wanted to come to see Con so bad, but I told her that y’all had put him to bed and that she had to get at least a few hours of sleep.

“I’m glad this monstrosity has five bedrooms. Let’s get Mr. Bogg up to his room. Carol, Con is in the room next to mine, Margaret is in the bedroom next to Gates, you can sleep in the same room you and Therese were in last night.”

“I want to see Mags!” insisted Gates.

“Sweetie, she is out like a light, but I’ll let you peek in on her.”

“That will be fine … I just have to see her.”

“Very well, let’s get you up the stairs,” said Janice, and as they walked Gates, she asked, “What did they do for you at the hospital?”

Carol answered for the wincing man. “They cleaned out the stab wound, stiched it up, gave him penicillin to ward off infection, and put a pint of blood in him. They wanted to keep him a day and night, but I insisted it was impossible and promised to bring in his local doctor to check on him. The emergency room physician finally relented and signed him out.”

“That sounds good, well done.”

“In how bad a state did you find our couple?”

“They were drugged, bruised, malnourished, and bit dehydrated … and filthy. I bathed her, and Phil bathed Con. I put a nightgown on her, and Phil put a pair of Sin’s PJs on Con. About that time, a doctor I had called earlier arrived. We found two kinds of narcotics at the hardware store that the creeps were probably using to sedate them: a bottle of choral hydrate tablets and some Army syrettes of morphine. The doctor spent some time with both of them. He was glad to hear that they both vomited at the hardware store when we started to walk them out. We slipped them into their beds, and he started both of them on an IV of fluids. He said it would both hydrate them and cleanse their system. They literally passed out.”

“Who is the doctor?”

“I helped him, his wife, and two children escape from Germany in 1939. His name is Ernst Mendellsohn. He has a family practice here in Washington. His home is on the street directly behind me. He can step out his back door, cross the alley, and be at my house in a couple of minutes. Ernst said to call if I need him, but he will return to check on them at seven if I don't. I told him that we would be adding Mr. Bogg to his ward.”

“Jewish?”

“Correct.”

“I see.”

“Yes, he told me that if I ever needed a favor to call on him. I never imagined having to take him up on the offer, but ...”

After Gates looked in on Margaret, he began to cry. Carol gave him two of the pain pills the hospital provided then tucked him into his bed. They had changed him into his pajamas and robe before taking him to the hospital. Upon exiting his bedroom, Janice informed Carol, “I had Phil toss Gates’s bloody clothes along with Con and Margaret's nasty garments in my blazing furnace down in the basement.”

Carol looked at Janice. Janice could tell that the woman, every bit as exhausted as her, had a hundred questions. She hugged her and said, “Carol, I have much to tell you, but we need sleep. I am sure that Con and Miss Shannon can provide much more information when their heads have cleared. Let’s tackle it all then.”

“No argument here.”

“Oh, how will Therese get to work with your car here?”

“She’s going to call a cab.”

“Good … it’s supposed to snow again anyway.”

“What about our trainees at Navy Hill?”

Phil’s going to call the office at seven for Sgt. Dandridge to give them two mornings of rigorous PT with both afternoons free for them to enjoy on their own.”

“Thank you!”

Janice smirked.

“Where is Phil?”

He insists on sitting guard in the study with Pappas drilling.

Carol glanced at the stairwell and nodded. Then blurted, “Wait … not a peep out of Hatch?”

“No, I slipped in to check on her and found the radio still blaring, her glasses on, and a ‘Nancy Drew’ resting on her bosom. I turned off the radio, relieved her of the glasses and novel, and then I flipped her light off.”

Carol chuckled, “Bless her heart.”

Janice smiled at the southern expression then said, “Sleep well, Carol.”

“You, too, ‘Doc’.”

*****

At half-past-five, Therese rushed upstairs at Janice’s and found Con’s door open. She paused to find that Janice and a man she did not recognize were talking with Con. She was thrilled to hear Con speaking clearly, plus he had good color.

“Thank you, Doctor Mendellsohn; I really appreciate your seeing to our care.”

“Certainly, Agent Slate … I’m thrilled you were able to hold down some soup. Remember, you must continue to rest for at least another 24 hours.”

“How is Margaret?”

“She is doing well, not as strong as you are, but she’s clear of thought and has also successfully eaten.”

Carol had parked the car and caught up with Therese. She placed her hand on Therese’s back and whispered, “Let’s go check on Miss Shannon while the doctor is finishing with Con.”

Therese nodded.

They gently knocked on Margaret’s door and heard a few steps. Gates opened the door and exclaimed, “Hello, ladies! Please come in and meet Margaret Shannon.”

In a weak but lovely voice, Margaret smiled, “Oh, this must be Miss Aird and Miss Belivet. My, my, Gates was correct; you two are indeed beautiful!” She extended her hands.

The couple each took a hand and saw why Connor Slate found the editor so charming. Carol chimed, “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Shannon.”

“Carol, is it? Yes, thank you for all you’ve done for me. It seems I owe my life to this band of Musketeers. Oh, and, dear Therese having to work all day with this mess in the back of your mind. I imagine you felt like you were about to explode.”

 _Such empathy and perception_ , Therese thought, then remarked, “It was a long day.”

They laughed. Margaret released their hands and asked, “Ladies, please make Gates sit down. He is hovering around me like a mother hen. He is going to burst his stitches, isn’t he?”

Carol scolded, “Gates, she is right; you need to get off that leg.”

At that moment, the doctor stepped in and said, “Mr. Bogg, it is your turn, sir, let me examine that wound and change the dressing.”

“Yes, Doctor,” complied Gates, and he hobbled off to his room.

Upon the two men’s departure, Margaret reached for Carol and Therese and pulled them in close. “Hey, there is an elephant in the closet. I know what everyone is concerned about relative to my days in captivity.”

Carol and Therese glanced at each other, then shifted their eyes to Margaret’s and squeezed her hands.

“Those goons did not rape me. And I know a man might ask, ‘How can you be sure being drugged and all?’ But, a woman knows … my underclothes were always intact … filthy, but intact. Dammit, I had to use a makeshift chamber pot, and what was it eleven goddamn days without a shower or bath? And, as to the biological evidence, there was not a sign of sexual depravity. Frankly, they never gave me any indication that such was on their agenda. They were all business, whatever the hell that business was.”

Therese did not know how to respond, but Carol softly replied, “Angels and warriors looked over you, dear.”

Margaret began to weep. She was embarrassed to cry in front of relative strangers, but Carol and Therese leaned in and hugged her. They cried right along with her.

*****

Therese came down the stairs at eight. She had checked to make sure that Gates and Margaret were sound asleep. Therese joined Con, Janice, Carol, and Phil in the sitting room. Once again, the board was present, and this time, several more spaces were filled. Hatch had brought them coffee and cake before she retired for the evening.

Janice swallowed a bite of the chocolate cake and sighed. “Enjoy it, folks; Hatch started our new ration book at the market today. She splurged on the ingredients for this cake. It’ll probably be the dessert of the month.”

Con remarked, “It’s delicious. She’s an excellent cook.”

Carol had worked on the board, adding the hardware store and four reclining stickmen to represent the late kidnappers. Con noticed them and asked, “So, after Gates iced the two guys here, you all gathered together to load them in Janice’s trunk and take them along to the hardware store?”

Janice replied, “That’s right, and after Phil took out the two at the store, we found you and Margaret. Phil and I manhandled the bodies from the car into the store.”

“All four of them are at the hardware store … but the two you killed on Sunday to save Gates are at the morgue?”

“Yes.”

“Please don’t think me in the least bit ungrateful … hell, you saved our lives, but this is a mess.”

Carol laughed, “No, no, dear Con, you are correct. It is a mess.”

“Phil, how did you stage the stiffs at the store?”

“Yes, Sir.” Phil coughed to clear his throat of cake and icing. “I put rounds in both of the stab wounds Gates inflicted on Tom, one through the neck and one in the eye. They ain’t perfect, the .22 bullets are so small, but they’ll have to do. I put four rounds in Jerry’s head, and none of them exited. We thought it might look like he entered from the basement’s ground floor doorway and was shot, sending him tumbling down that steep staircase to land on the basement’s concrete floor head first … thus the cricket bat injuries.”

Therese uttered, “Shit.”

Janice remarked, “Quite so, darling.”

Therese blurted, “I see. It looks like all four got taken by surprise at the store … not just the two that were standing guard. Another mob thing?”

Phil grinned at his “little sister,” then confirmed, “You got it, Rese.”

Con noted, “Actually, that’s good work. Phil … Janice, please tell me you have my badge.”

Janice laughed, “Oh, I’m sorry! I forgot to tell you! Yes, we do, along with your wallet, Margaret’s handbag, and your revolver. They are in the dresser in your room under some spare bedding.”

“Hallelujah!”

Phil muttered, “Geez, Doc, I thought you had told him.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Phil, it’s not like I didn’t have a lot on my mind.”

Con moved them along, “Now, the problem is that if the cops find the four bodies there, they will inevitably connect them to the two in the morgue, an—”

“They’ve connected the incidents,” Janice stated.

“Yes, Ma’am, but whether it would help them or not is still a question.”

“But …”

“Yes. You know this makes me wonder if a Carol and Therese fire might be the thing to do.”

Shocked, Carol asked, “You mean like Little Buzzard Bay?”

“Exactly.”

Janice and Phil stared in confusion at Con, Janice, and Therese.

The two ladies from Mrs. Cleary’s Boarding House for Women succinctly told Phil and Janice of Richard Semco, the despicable Mr. Steele, and the nightmarish dive that once occupied Little Buzzard Bay.”

Phil growled, “Semco, you fuckin’ idiot!”

“More coffee, Con?”

“No thanks, Janice. Perhaps, I should have a glass of water?”

“That’s true, Con; water would be better for you.”

“I got it.” Therese was off to the kitchen and quickly returned with a glass of water.

“Thank you, T.”

“Your welcome, Boss … damn, it feels good to say that again.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment.

Con continued, “While we ruminate on dead guys at the hardware store, I’m going to share something with you all. I think I rambled incoherently about some of this to Phil and Janice early this morning.”

Janice uttered, “It’s embarrassing in a way … for me.”

“How so?” asked Therese.

Phil blurted, “Ah, she’s just pissed because they’re krauts, and she missed it … fuckin’ Nazi spies.”

“What?” gasped Therese.

Janice rubbed her forehead, then murmured, “The two we had at my house must have grown up in the United States. I didn’t detect a trace of an accent.”

Therese asked, “So, they’re German agents?”

“How did you figure that out, Con?” asked Carol.

“German American agents more likely ... perhaps from the German American Bund. These bastards didn’t realize it, but I could hear their ground floor conversations via a gap in the furnace shaft that ran through my basement cell. Eight different men came and went during the eleven days of our incarceration; Margaret and I were nabbed at the art studio on Saturday, the 20th. Two of them, the two that never took a shift standing watch at the hardware store, spoke German to each other. I heard them mention ‘the Füher’ several times, and the four of us … Janice’s name in particular.”

“Janice’s name?” asked Carol.

“Yes … disconcerting, right?” replied Janice.

Con finished his water and set the glass down with a slight tremble in his hand.

Therese caught it and asked, “Con, are you alright? Do we need to stop and get you to bed?”

“No, T. I’ll be okay. I need to bring everyone up to speed.” He shifted in his chair. Phil slid a footstool under Con’s calves. “Thanks, Marine.”

“Sure, G-man.”

“Therese, do you remember my canceled date?”

“Oh, when Margaret’s secretary called and said Margaret had to go to the Hamptons?”

“That's it. Well, the following Tuesday, she called and apologized for sending me a lie via her secretary. She said she liked and respected me too much to let it stand. She asked that I come to her apartment that evening, and she would make me dinner and explain what really happened.

“We had a lovely dinner of pork chops, asparagus, and creamed corn. After dinner, she told me where she actually had to go the past weekend. Margaret met with a photographer in Brooklyn. She suspected the worst, and as it turned out, her fears were well-founded. The guy was a sleaze. He showed her prints and negatives of some photographs he had taken of her years ago. She was a struggling young model at the time and posed for some nude photographs. Margaret had a change of heart during the shoot. The photographer stepped across the hall for a few minutes. She got dressed, took the film from his camera, and ran out. He must have had such an experience before and sneakily changed rolls earlier after only a few shots. He had only the first five of the photographs they took that day, but one would have been enough. He demanded $10,000 for the prints and negatives. If she didn’t pay, he was going to send copies of the prints to two sensationalist newspapers, one in New York and one in Washington.

“I told her that blackmail was a crime and that even if she paid, there was a chance he had copies of the prints and more negatives hidden somewhere. He could come back in the future and blackmail her again.”

Therese commented, “That’s horrible, Con.”

“Yep. So we talked about it, and I volunteered to help her. She refused the help, fearing that it might get me in trouble with the Bureau. She wanted to pay him the cash. I suggested she call him and agree to pay him but only if he’d meet her in D.C. with the prints and negatives. We talked about a time and place for the meeting. She suggested Saturday afternoon at the art studio. I told her that sounded ideal, but I insisted on accompanying her. I wasn’t sure what I would do, but I figured just to trust my instincts and go with my gut. I urged her not to gather the ten grand. I said I would rig a show pack for her … 96 singles sandwiched between four C-notes wrapped tightly with a bank teller’s 10K strap. She was as nervous as hell that morning, and I must admit, I was pretty damned antsy myself. We went over to the studio on Saturday morning to familiarize myself with the layout; the meeting was set for one. She gave me the nickel tour then, out of the blue, started crying. I held her. We started making out … well—” Con massaged his closed eyes with his fingers.

Therese glanced at Carol, and Janice tilted her head as she caught Phil looking her way.

“Neither one of us had any appetite, but they have a little fridge at the studio, and Margaret got a couple of Cokes for us. We decided just to wait there and not go for lunch. I suggested she call her business partner, Mr. Bogg. I had never met him, but she talked fondly of him. You’d thought he was her brother. I wanted her to make sure he hadn’t any plans that would bring him by the studio. Evidently, he was aware of the blackmail. They talked for quite a while.”

“What was this photographer’s name?” asked Janice.

“Vinny Rinaldi … hey, a Vincent Rinaldi hasn’t shown up dead in the papers or anything, has he?”

Phil laughed, “What the fuck, Con?”

“Oh, hold on, let me get to that in a moment.”

The others shifted in their seats as if preparing for Act 1, Scene 2.

“Vinny showed up on time with a black leather portfolio. He was pissed by my presence but had no idea I was law enforcement. He threatened to leave, but Margaret coaxed him into staying by saying she just wanted her cousin along because she was scared carrying ten thousand dollars around.” Con coughed again.

Therese hopped up and grabbed his water glass. She darted off and was quickly back with a full glass.

“That’s when all hell broke loose. Three of these guys, the ones we now know are German agents, slipped in with handguns drawn ... flat-ass got the drop on me. They frisked us all. I was the only one that was armed. They were not shocked in the least by my badge and revolver. They addressed Margaret and me by name but asked Vinny who he was. He gave them his real name. He was scared shitless. They grabbed Vinny’s portfolio and looked inside. The guy I observed to be the leader glanced at Margaret's photos and quickly surmised what was going on. One of the goons had a .45 equipped with a silencer. The head guy nodded at Mr. Silencer; he shot Vinny right in the forehead. It was lights out for Vinny. Margaret hugged me in a death grip, but she was too terrified to scream. Phil, the silenced pistol must have been set up to run with midrange semi-wadcutters as the report was super quiet, and the bullet did not exit Vinny’s noggin.”

Phil nodded in agreement.

Janice observed, “Pros … limiting the cleanup and collateral damage.”

“They handcuffed Margaret and then chloroformed us. When I came to, I was in a mildewy supply closet. Later, I was so relieved when I heard Margaret call my name from the other side of the wall.”

Janice, Carol, Phil, and Therese listened in wrapped silence as Con described the blurry days that followed.

After Con finished, he paused and looked intently at Janice, “Just who did you assassinate in 1938, lady?”

Janice stood and turned to walk to the liquor cabinet. She poured herself a shot of Johnny Walker and kicked it back.

“Something you heard through the pipes, my friend?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Lukas Müller?”

“Oh, I heard ‘Müller’ once.”

“Dear Team, I cannot share any details of this assignment with you. Rest assured, he was a dark creature and best put down.”

“We were sending you into Nazi Germany to take out bad guys back in the thirties?” asked Therese.

Janice turned and gave Therese a stern look. “Yes … now, my darling T, let this go. It is enough to know the source of their motivation.”

“Okay.”

“Con, that mission is only known at the highest levels, a mere handful ...”

“That confirms something I did not want to believe from my fuzzy eavesdrops.”

“And, what is that?”

“One of the Germans that I never saw said some things that made me suspect he was with our government.”

Janice asked, “Not a clue as to which organization?”

“Well, if I had to guess, I would say yours.”

“The OSS?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, that nixes that.”

“What?”

“We can’t go to the FBI yet because of the killings, and now we can’t go to the OSS because of a possible embedded double agent.”

“Yes, I would say we are on our own for a while. Damn, I’m going to have some explaining to do. Anyway, here’s the best part. In one of my more lucid moments, I overheard this mystery man talking about their mission. Straight from the top, this team of theirs was ordered to kill you, Janice.”

“Oh, Janice,” said Therese.

“It’s okay, dear, I’ll be fine.”

Con further illuminated, “It seems they couldn’t get to you because you are always either hold up at OSS or sheltering in ‘that fortress of a house’ with ‘her ever-present one-armed gunman.’ They were tailing me in hopes of catching us together. They knew of my work as well. They would have celebrated a twofer.”

Janice laughed, but Phil scowled, saying, “It’s not funny Doc.”

Con finished, “Anyway, as my Alabama friends would say, ‘Y’all are all caught up.’”

Phil mentioned, “By the way, Con, we filled a cardboard box up at the hardware store with everything we felt pertinent. I guess that’s the photographer’s briefcase in it, and the mixed strap of cash is too. I grabbed all the guns and ammo as well; I sure didn't want some nosey kid finding them and blowing his foot off.”

“Any sign of my car?”

“No, sir.”

Carol asked, “Would Vinny’s car still be parked over by the studio?”

Con answered, “No, he took the train from New York to D.C. early that day … and a cab from the station. By the way, was there any sign of blood at the studio?”

Janice answered, “None of us have actually been in that building, but Gates certainly would have said something about blood on the floor.”

“Geez, these guys are meticulous,” opined Con.

“And, ruthless,” said Carol, then she asked, “Con, I hate to be blunt, but why do you think they kept Margaret alive?”

“I’ve asked myself the same thing a hundred times.”

They heard a sweet voice from the top of the stairs. “Connor, is that you down there?”

He stood and spoke, “She shouldn’t be up and about. I’ll walk her back to her room and sit with her for a while. You guys sleep on all this, and we’ll meet again in the morning.”

Carol asked, “Do you need a hand, Con?”

“No, I got her.” He paused on his wobbly legs and turned back to the team, “Hey, thanks for everything, folks.”

They had already stood. They either nodded or waved to him. Halfway up the staircase, they heard him say, “Honey, stay there ... just a sec.”

“I had a terrible dream."

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, let's get you back to bed. Everything is fine."

Janice glanced at Carol.

Carol rolled her eyes. “He was right, ‘this is a mess.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/M5OtKK4)   
> 


	8. A Creaking Gate

After she heard Margaret’s door close, Carol asked Janice, “Can I assume these Nazi thugs wrote the letter to Gates? And if so, why?”

“Yes, and I imagine they wrote it as another attempt to draw me out. Ironic … I was there. Thank God that Phil and I stayed in my car as long as we did. If we had gone and knocked on the studio door, the two guys I later shot on the street would have surely attacked us at that point. We would have been quite vulnerable.

Therese asked, “Why do y’all think they decided to abduct Gates?”

Phil answered, “I bet they figured he was about to go to the cops.”

“I agree, Phil,” said Janice.

Carol asked, “Janice, shouldn’t we have Therese call in sick tomorrow. What if Con is mistaken and the head spy is an FBI agent?”

“All the more reason for Therese to go to work, dear. Her absence would raise his suspicion.”

Phil questioned, “But wouldn’t he already be wise to us? I mean, it seems like they have been observing all of our activities for days or even weeks."

Therese asked, “Don’t y’all think these guys would have been by the hardware store today and found their dead?”

Janice nodded, “I do, Therese.”

Carol pointed out, “And, most likely, there are only two of them left alive, the two leaders.”

Phil asked, “Well, if you were these head Krauts, what would you do, Janice?”

“I’d flee.”

Carol remarked, “That makes sense.”

“Yes, Carol, and that is why I’m calling Captain Storm tomorrow afternoon.”

“That WAC from California?”

“Yes. I trust her beyond all suspicion. I’ll see if anyone called in sick today ... or by noon tomorrow.”

Janice scanned them all but stopped on Therese’s eyes. “Therese, knowing how the Bureau monitors calls, Carol will call you tomorrow around 14:00. If Captain Storm reports someone is missing, Carol will ask if you have to work late. If everyone is where they should be on Navy Hill, then she’ll tell you that she could not get concert tickets for the two of you.”

They cleaned up their dishes and discussed the watch schedule for the night. It was felt that Therese should take the first one, and then she could get several hours of sleep before going to work.

Therese dialed the radio to music, turned the volume down, and put her feet up on Janice’s sofa with the drilling at her side. Carol had lingered in the kitchen after the others went upstairs. She wanted to give her girl a kiss goodnight. Carol placed a glass of water on the coffee table next to Therese, then leaned down and pressed her lips to Therese’s. Therese smiled after their long kiss. Carol turned to depart for bed. “Carol?”

“Yes, my love.”

“Why is this shotgun/rifle combination gun called a drilling?”

“It has three barrels. 'Three' in German is 'drei.' In turn, 'drilling' means 'triplet.'”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Of course … nighty-night.”

“Sweet dreams, C.”

Therese watched longingly as Carol floated off and upstairs. She caught herself, biting her lower lip. _Stop that, Therese._

The big clock in Janice’s foyer chimed on quarter-hours. The tune played halfway through. The sleepy young woman whispered to herself, “Thirty more minutes.”

To keep awake, she had been thinking about their Nazi spy ring. _Yes, Janice. Blowing town and the country seem logical, but perhaps not to a fanatic hell-bent_ _on pleasing_ _his_ _Füher. He’d attack, kill Janice, or die trying. And he'd have to do it ASAP._

An uneasy paranoia came over Therese. With this heightened sense of awareness, she reached for her glass and poured a bit of water in her palm. Therese rubbed her face with her wet hands. As intended, it knocked the cobwebs from her mind. She dried her hands and face on the cloth napkin Carol had placed under the glass of water. Therese took a drink and felt the cold liquid run down her throat to tickle her belly. She lifted the drilling and opened the breech. She snapped the breech closed after finding its two buckshot shells in place. Two spare rounds were standing on the table. She pocketed them in her robe.

With the gun in hand, Therese turned off the radio then inspected the entire ground floor. She made sure the doors were locked, and the drapes or blinds were all closed. Just after the next quarter-hour tune chimed, Therese heard an alley cat screech. She noted that there was no response from a secondary feline combatant and found that unusual. Therese crept to the front door and listened intently. She heard the ever-slightest creak of Janice’s iron gate. Therese rushed to the bell sashes and pulled the ones for Janice and Carol’s rooms.

Therese knelt at the corner of the dining room entrance and aimed her weapon at the front door. Two blasts from outside disintegrated the door locks. Two overcoat-clad men shouldered the doors open and entered the foyer; they both carried pump shotguns. In the dim light of the foyer, Therese fired twice, hitting both invaders. She spun back into the dining room to reload. She heard gunshots from the stairs. Phil raced by the dining room entrance towards the front door. He fired twice more.

Janice and Carol darted down the stairs. Carol joined Therese while Janice headed for the entrance. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” asked Carol.

Therese quaked, “I think so.” She sank to her knees. The drilling’s breech was open, and the fired shells were on the floor, but she still had the two backup rounds in her trembling hand. Carol gently relieved Therese of the drilling and shells then joined her on the floor. Carol hugged Therese.

Phil and Janice closed the big doors and pushed Janice’s heavy foyer bench against them. The solid piece of furniture made a good block. They joined Carol and Therese.

“How is she, Carol?”

“She’s fine … just shaken.”

Therese uttered, “I’m right here, you know.”

They all laughed nervously.

Phil stated, “Goddamn, Rese! You nailed both those fuckers.”

Therese asked, “How many were there?”

Phil answered, “Three … they are all dead. After you shot the first two, another guy followed. I got him from the top of the stairs with half a magazine. Your two were still kicking, so I staked them in the head. Janice and I glanced around, and we didn’t see anyone else. That may have been it, or, if there were any others, they ran off.”

Janice brought Therese a glass of Scotch. Carol held it to Therese’s lips. Therese took a sip. “Mmm, that’s good.”

Janice asked, “Carol, you’ve met Robert Warren from OSS, haven’t you?”

“Yes, he’s in research, right?”

“Correct.”

“What about him?”

“He’s sprawled in my foyer. His assistant, Jimmy Green, is out there, too. I don’t recognize the third one.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Phil, swap places with Carol; hold our petite killer angel. Carol, please call the police on the house phone. A neighbor has probably beaten you to it, but we need to make sure. I’m going to use my office line to call the OSS and the FBI.

They heard Con’s voice from the base of the stairs. Standing with his revolver in hand, he said, “I caught most of that. Janice, hold off on the FBI. I’ll call Don’s home number. He’ll help us ease into this with Bureau.”

Right in front of everyone, Carol planted a kiss on Therese’s mouth. Phil had returned his pistol to his waistband. He used his country-strong arm to help Therese to her feet and walk her to the couch in the den. He tucked a throw blanket around her and then plopped down beside her. She sipped the whiskey again. “Want a sip, Phil?”

“Sure, darlin’.”

Janice asked Con, “Where’s Margaret and Gates?”

“I sent them to keep Hatch company in her room. I told them to stay there until we came for them.”

“Well done.”

Con nodded and joined Carol at the house phone while Janice sat down at her desk to phone the OSS.

After returning the glass to Therese, Phil sighed, “I agree with you.”

“About what?”

“Kissing girls is fun.”

Therese chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/dtEHYBI)  
>   
> 86!


	9. Spring?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/YEwIkbA)   
> 

“Now, Therese Honey, you know what I always said, and I mean it. This old gal ain’t venturin’ no further from this farm than the church and Mr. Mosby’s general store.”

“I know, Momma, but I just wish you’d consider it. Mrs. Wallace said that week would be spring break for Carter, and she can travel with you.”

“I can’t, Therese … I just can’t. I know you’ll come to see us when you can, and no time will be too soon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

“Well, okay … I love you.”

“I love you, too, darlin’.”

“Carol and I will get down there in the summer for sure, Momma.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll say bye for now, then. Let me say goodbye to Carter.”

“Bye-bye, Therese … here she is.”

“Hi, Therese. I told ya so.”

“I know you did, Sissy.”

“Nice try. But … ”

“But what?”

“Therese, I know you have nothing but love in your heart and are color blind. The thing is, this world ain’t ready for that, and it may never be ready.”

“I don’t believe that … I can’t believe that.”

“Y’all go enjoy a trip somewhere special, Therese. Besides, it’s still cold up there, isn’t it? I don’t think I’d like the cold, and Momma sure as shootin’ wouldn’t get on no long haul train. Maybe someday, Sis … maybe someday.”

Therese smiled at the teenager’s wisdom. “Okay, then, Carter; take care of Momma, and good luck with the midterms.”

“I will, Therese. Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you. Goodbye. Oh, tell Mrs. Wallace thanks for letting y’all use her phone.”

“I will. Bye-bye.”

Carol watched Therese slowly hang up the phone. Carol asked, “She doesn’t want to come to Washington?”

“No.”

“Therese, I’m so sorry.”

Therese began to cry. Carol hugged her love. “Well, you know how scary it would have been for her, darling. We’ll see them in June or July. I promise.”

“I’m glad I called her first and not Jitka and Ruby. Oh, Carol, I so wanted them to meet, and the six of us spend a few days together.”

“Well, perhaps we can arrange for Jitka and Ruby to travel with us to meet the Liners someday.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t leave their store for a trip that far any more than Momma would leave her farm.”

“Now, you don’t know that for sure. It’s something we can hope for … something to work on.”

“I guess so. Thank you, Carol. You are always here for me. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Sweetheart.” They kissed. Carol chuckled, “Mmm, salty.”

Therese laughed, but the laugh induced a cough. Carol rubbed her back gently.

Therese was soon composed. She suggested, “I guess we can accept Mr. Bogg’s invitation.”

“I think that’s a swell idea. Can you imagine; the team together at a lodge in Vermont? No work. No fears. No stress. Just us saps having a gay time in the mountains.”

“It sounds too good to be true.”

“Oh, Miss Gloomy Gus, cheer up. We’ll have a blast. I’ll call Gates right this very minute.”

“Carol, what do you think Vermont will be like in the last week of March.”

“I imagine, very little spring, and a lot still winter.”

*****

“Therese, have we died and awakened in heaven?” Carol was propping her head on her hand, staring at Therese. She had been patiently waiting for her lover to rouse. 

Therese smiled at Carol with her sleepy, green eyes. “I think so. Hey, it’s snowing?”

“I know … the icing on the cake?”

“Oh, Carol. We got in so late. If you wanted to … well … last night? I’m sorry.”

“Now, don’t you fret, lover; I was out like a light when my head hit these down pillows.”

“Do you want to, now?”

“I’d love to, but I can hear the others stirring for breakfast.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after ten.”

“Geez! How long have you been awake?”

“Just a few minutes. I was enjoying the view.”

Therese scrunched into Carol’s arms and kissed her. Their smooching lasted until they heard swing music blaring from downstairs.

Carol grinned, “I’m starved.”

“Me, too. I smell bacon.”

They put on their robes and slippers, then darted across the hall to the bathroom. They were the last of the crew to arrive downstairs. Phil had a big fire going in the granite fireplace. Standing in the airy great room, he looked such the outdoorsman in his wool pants and an indigo flannel shirt. Janice must have had the shirt tailored for him. The left sleeve was cut and hemmed perfectly. He grinned at them. “There they are!”

“Good morning, Phil!” chimed Therese.

“Mornin’, Ladies! Whatcha think of that snow?”

“We’re loving it, Phil. Did you sleep well?” asked Carol.

“Yes, Ma’am. I slept until around nine, but Janice was up much earlier. She’s already been for a hike in this stuff.” He pointed to the colorful wooly socks drying by the fire.

Carol and Therese chuckled then headed for the source of the music, the kitchen.

Janice shook her hips and clapped as Margaret and Gates cut the rug to _Swing, Swing, Swing_. At the stove, Con was laughing at the dancers; he could hardly tend his bacon for the distraction. Glenn Miller’s record was spinning in the corner of the room. They had moved the record player into the kitchen to entertain them as they cooked.

Therese walked up and hugged Con. “Nice apron, Boss. I love the red.”

“I know. It matches my eyes, right?”

“It was a late-night arrival, wasn’t it?”

Gates turned to Therese. “Miss Belivet! Aphrodite has nothing on you this snowy morn. Come dance with me, child.”

Therese laughingly obliged him. Gates swung, spun, and dipped her, almost knocking off the pitcher of orange juice. Carol rescued the beverage. Carol asked Janice, “What’s in this orange juice?”

“Nothing but juice … I promise. He’s just high with joy.”

“I know how he feels.”

“Me, too.”

Margaret grabbed Carol’s hands and soon had her jiving to Moe Purtill’s throbbing drum solo.

Phil joined them, and the Marine pulled Janice into the den to expand the dance floor.

Jonathan Arrington stepped in with an armload of firewood. Con rushed to close the kitchen door behind him. They emitted howls or squeals as the arctic blast swept through the rooms. Jon made his way to the fire, and Phil temporarily broke from his love to help their host offload his beech and oak.

Jon joked, “My neighbors would be complaining about the noise … if I had neighbors.”

Janice added, “Mr. Arrington, this lodge is spectacular.”

“Thank you, Dr. Sinclair; I love it dearly. I can tolerate Manhattan just fine knowing I have this getaway waiting for me.”

Carol and Therese had joined them. Gates was starting the eggs, and Margaret was helping Con with the second batch of bacon.

The Alabama women had caught some of the conversation. Carol asked, “Did you grow up in Vermont, Mr. Arrington?”

“Now, look, folks. I insist you all start calling me Jon. And, Carol, the answer is no. I was born, raised, and educated in New Jersey. After Rutgers Law School, I got on with a firm in New York and worked my way up to partner. I admit it. I am a workaholic. But, I must have my time off, and this is where I spend it. It’s always best when Gates can join me, but I can recharge my batteries up here even by myself. The seasons are glorious.”

Janice commented, “You have a lot of rooms.”

“I do. Gates and I like to entertain. We have company, mostly friends of ours from the city. It’s such a special place. No judgmental eyes for miles. But, it is a remote location. Please be careful; the nearest doctor is an hour’s drive. However, in weather like this …”

“Understood,” replied Janice. Then she exclaimed, “Oh! My toast in the oven!” She rushed for the kitchen.

Therese followed, “Here, I’ll help.”

Janice was pleased to find the bread perfectly browned. She and Therese double-teamed the slices into a cloth-lined basket.

Everything came together at Jon’s massive dinner table. They enjoyed scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, butter, honey, coffee, and orange juice. Laughter and good conversation were also served up in abundance.

As they finished breakfast, Therese said to Jon, “Jon, you are so gracious to share your home with us. Thank you.”

“No, no, my dear, I am the one who is thankful to all of you for saving my friends. Gates and Mags would not be here if not for your cunning and bravery. I know I will never be privy to all of the why and wherefore details, but, as their lawyer, they have shared what they can with me. It was a fearsome matter, and I will forever be in your debt. This week in Vermont is the least I can do.”

Carol shooed Therese from the kitchen and told her to relax. Therese went to the 10X10 window and stared at the magical terrain. Also sent from the kitchen, Jon joined her. He removed his glasses and cleaned them with his handkerchief. Therese glanced at the tall man with his salt and pepper hair and long, stately face. She asked, “The windmill … it provides all of your electricity?”

“Not all. Sometimes the air stills for a few days. I have a gasoline-powered generator in that shed to our left. It comes in handy at times. The thing is, I don’t have very much gas in this time of rationing.”

“Well, I doubt if we’ll have any need for the internal combustion generator this week.”

“That’s true, Therese … ‘Through woods and mountain passes, the winds, like anthems, roll.’”

“Longfellow?”

“Very good. You are a reader?”

“I am. Probably too much of one.”

“One can never be too much of a reader. What are you reading at the moment?”

“I just finished _All Quiet on the Western Front_.”

“My goodness!”

“What? Not the usual fare for a woman?”

“Well, yes, and that’s refreshing.”

Therese chuckled at the fellow's engaging reaction. “I thought it would give me some sense of what our soldiers are going through. The ones I know don’t talk about it.”

“Yes, I often feel guilty for being too young for one war and too old for the other.”

“You shouldn’t; you can’t help the circumstances.”

“I know, but … hey, it certainly seems like you’ve had your share of action. I mean, really!”

Sidestepping the comment, Therese asked, “You’ve read it?”

“I have. Let me see, I loved this line, “It is very clear that the unhappiness of the world is so often brought on by small men.”

Therese nodded knowingly.

“Young Lady, you really should go to college.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m doing all right.”

“Amazingly well, I’d say. That’s not my point. It’s that you have a mind for it.”

“Well, thank you. Carol wants me to go, as well. Maybe when the war is over.”

“Your Carol, such a pair you make. I admire your moxie. I’ve never known a Sapphic pair that had the courage to cohabitate.”

“I bet you have. You just don’t know it.”

“He laughed. Gates stepped up behind them. “Jon, quit flirting with my girl.”

Jon reached back and pulled a strand of his boyfriend’s hair.

“Ouch! You devil!”

Therese headed for the fireplace to roast her front. It got chilled at the window.

After the dishes were done, the others all meandered into the great room. Jon announced, “Who is up for skiing? The snow has stopped falling.”

Janice spoke up, “Phil and I are in. He made me promise to teach him.”

Gates, Margaret, and Con all raised their hands, grinning.

Carol read her girl. “Y’all go have fun. Therese and I will hold down the fort here by the fire.”

“Oh, Ladies, come now. It’s just a shallow slope about a quarter-mile-long.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Margaret commanded, “Leave them be, Counselor. Ladies, enjoy. We’ll see you in a couple of hours.” Margaret winked at Carol and Therese.

Carol saw the skiers out. Then returned to Therese. Therese was sitting on an ottoman facing the fireplace. Carol walked up behind her and massaged her shoulders. Therese rolled her head and neck in ecstasy. After a moment, Carol suggested, “Let’s go to bed, darling.”

“Okay.”

Walking up the stairs, they held hands. Carol divided a handful of peppermint candies between them. They crunched away with their eyes burning into one another. Carol closed the bedroom door behind them, and they hurriedly stripped themselves of their robes, pajamas, and panties. They tumbled onto the big feather mattress and snuggled under its covers. Entwined like ivy, they engaged in a deep kiss.

“Therese, your legs are killer, and they feel as good as they look.”

“Well, yours are, too, C, and I like what’s between them.” Therese took her hand to Carol’s wetness and began to play.

Carol moaned and returned the favor by taking her mouth to Therese’s erect nipples.

Therese gasped, “Oh, God! I love when you nosh my titties.”

“Oh, I never realized!” exclaimed Carol with a wicked cackle.

Their passion exploded in the bed. For a few moments, they could forget the recent traumas, the war, the shortages, and the deaths.

Therese fisted her girl aggressively, and Carol screamed in erotic bliss. Therese stayed after Carol until her hand began to cramp. She pulled it. Carol rolled on top of her with thankful, loving kisses. Then she went down on Therese with gusto. She ate out her little vixen with purpose; Therese had to come just as hard as Carol. Carol succeeded.

They smooched, wiggled, and snuggled until Jon’s great room clock chimed two. Carol startled Therese. “Hey, let’s take a shower and put on those new slacks and sweaters.”

“We probably should shower together. All of the outdoorsy folks will want to bathe.”

“Oh, that’s right. The hot water is an issue. Well, we’ll be quick. I’ll wash your back if you get mine.”

There were two upstairs bathrooms. Theirs had an enormous footed porcelain tub with a shower current. The big showerhead could be handheld like a wand. They laughed as they took turns, rinsing the soap from their bodies. Carol noted, “This place must have cost a fortune to build way out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“I was thinking the same thing. What kind of lawyer do you think Jon is?”

“Probably the scary kind, unless he is on your side.”

As they finished dressing, Carol grinned with an idea. “Hey, let’s surprise them.”

“How?”

“That kitchen is well stocked. He has Baker’s Chocolate, too. Let’s bake brownies.”

“You're on, C.”

The two were a well-oiled machine in the kitchen. They mixed and poured two trays of batter. They grinned at one another as the aroma of baking filled the kitchen. The skiers began to thump in at five-to-three.

Janice exclaimed, “Chocolate cake?”

Therese beamed, “Brownies!”

“Even better, and don’t you gals look adorable in your sweaters.”

“Well, we didn’t ski, but we can sure as hell look the part. How’d it go?”

Margaret glowed, “It was great! Cons an ace!”

He replied, “Me, you’re a regular Olympian, Miss Shannon.”

Margaret spontaneously kissed Con. They shared a glance of deep affection. Therese was thrilled to see how happy she made her friend.

Therese shifted her gaze to Phil. She worried how he would do on this first attempt and with only a single ski pole. He looked chipper enough but was quiet. The telepathic Janice caught Therese’s concern and jibed, “Oh, sissy, quit worrying about brudda. He did fine. As a matter of fact, he was outstanding.”

Phil blushed and shrugged. “Oh, Janice, I fell on my ass a half-dozen times.”

“Yes, but what a fine ass to fall on. And, hey, you got back up every time and kept going. Therese, he didn’t fall any after the first hour.”

Jon added, “That’s true, Phil; you are a fast learn, Marine.”

Therese hugged Phil, pulled off his boggan-cap, and ruffled his hair. He smiled, asking, “So, when will these brownies be ready?”

“In a few, Sgt. McElroy. You’ve all got time for a hot bath or shower if you want one.”

Janice yelled, “Dibs!” And, was off.

Therese and Carol had not noticed that Gates was missing. The aggravated fellow came in stomping and cursing. “Where the fuck did everyone go?”

Margaret ran to her best friend and helped him with his coat, scarf, and hat. “I’m sorry, Gatesy. What were you doing lagging back there?”

“I thought I saw a creature in the woods, so I waited to get a better look at it.”

Jon chuckled, “What was it?”

“I don’t know. It never appeared again.”

They all laughed until he darted by them and headed up the stairs. He hollered, “Fine, you smart alecks, I’ll take the other shower … and use a shitload of hot water!”

Margaret threatened, “You better not, little man, or we’ll not save you any brownies!”

“Fuck, that, Magsy!” was heard as he slammed the far bathroom’s door shut.

They had a grand evening eating, smoking, and drinking in excess. It was a lovely escape from the world at war.

In the morning, Carol and Therese thought they might be the first downstairs, but they found Janice crying by the fire. Embarrassed, Janice tried to hide her tears.

Carol asked, “Hey, Boss, what’s wrong?”

She sullenly turned her gaze back to the fire. Therese and Carol sat on either side of her and put their arms across her back.

After a few moments, she murmured, “I’ve got to tell someone about this. You two are my besties these days, so you’re it.”

Therese had noticed an airmail letter in Janice’s hand. “Is it something in that letter?”

“Yes. This arrived Friday when we were leaving. It is from Sin. I put it in my handbag to read once we arrived. I read it just now.”

“Is he alright, and where’s he at?” asked Carol.

“He’s fine, and he’s in England.”

“England? Has he been there this entire time?”

“Mostly.”

“What’s got you so upset?”

“Sin said he is coming into D.C. for a few days next month. He has contacted an attorney and said I should engage one. Ladies, he wants a divorce.” She broke down again in tears.

Carol reasoned, “Well, Janice, you’ve had an open marriage. Didn’t you expect something like this sooner or later?”

“I guess so. He met an English woman and seems to have fallen head over heels for her. Shit, I bet she is young and pretty.”

Carol stated, “Well, I’d like to point out that you’ve got a young stud snoozing away upstairs in your bed.”

“Damn, you gals aren’t giving me a break, are you?”

Therese patted her arm, “Oh, Janice, we love you, bunches, but we were kind of expecting something like this.”

“Y’all love me?”

“Of course we do, darling.”

She sniffled again and smiled at them.

“Will you have to sell your house?”

“Heavens no. I paid for that house with my inheritance from Daddy. We have a prenuptial agreement. All that financial and real property stuff should be pretty straightforward. It’s just that … you know? We had some pretty good times together. We have so much in common. I can’t believe it will be over.”

Therese offered, “Perhaps y’all had too much in common.”

Janice started at Therese, “You know, you might be right, T.”

Carol asked, “I smell coffee … you made a pot?”

“I did.”

“Let’s have a cup and move to the couch.”

The three drank their coffee and talked. Janice got her spark back at some point. She grasped their hands. “Look, I’d love to take ‘y’all’ out on the slope by ourselves. I could have you two scooting down the run in no time. It would be nice and calm.”

Carol and Therese nodded at one another, then Carol said, “We’d love that, Janice. When do you want to go?”

“Let’s have some toast, get dressed, and slip out there now … before the others get going.”

“Okay, coach! We’re all in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/LObd313)   
> 
> 
> A new high!


	10. Across the Pond

“I will miss you so much, Carol.”

“And I will miss you beyond words, Therese.”

They embraced and kissed in the dormitory’s hallway; it was vacant save for the two women.

“Be careful and stay close to Phil and Janice.”

“Me? You be careful and stay close to Con.”

They chuckled at each other’s familiarity with the other.

The two walked down the London facility’s four flights of stairs to the lobby and found Janice, Phil, and Con waiting. The building was part of a large university before the war. Its students had long since been moved to more remote schools in the west of Britain or joined the military service. The building was charmed; through four years of war, not a single German bomb had touched it. Therese loved the colorful, oversized wall calendar in the lobby. It proudly displayed “Monday, May 8, 1944,” and the plain clock next to it showed five-to-eight.

Phil said, “Therese, I put your bag and typewriter in that Army Ford out at the curb. Carol, I’ve got yours right there with Janice’s and mine; our ride has not shown as of yet.”

Therese hugged him and chimed, “Phil, that was very sweet of you. Thanks, Brother.”

“You are most welcome, Sis.”

Carol smiled at the two orphans and momentarily envied their familial-like bond. She turned to Janice and asked, “Hey, do you have any idea what we’ll be riding in?”

“Well, darling, they said “car” on the phone yesterday.

Con hugged Carol and Janice and then shook Phil’s hand. “Well, our driver’s waiting, T; we better get going.”

With a tone of regret, Therese murmured, “Oh, I wish they had just let us work all of these sights together.” She reflected on their April 18th luncheon in Washington with OSS head Major General William J. “Wild Bill” Donovan and FBI Director Herbert Hoover. The two men had set aside their differences to honor the five federal employees responsible for destroying the German American Bund and Nazi spy rings. With almost all domestic spy threats eliminated and the OSS’s latest group of agents shipped out, the two directors decided to reward their personnel with a “cushy” assignment to tour the Allied marshaling yards and operational commands in Britain. Hoover and Donovan wanted first-hand information about the preparations for the upcoming invasion of Europe. They instructed the two FBI folks and the three OSS people to inspect and interview their way through the British Isles. Operating as two teams, Con and Janice’s elements were to make their observations then render their respective written reports. Therese was entrusted to type both reports.

The first week involved separate travel to the more distant locations in Wales, Scotland, Ireland, and Northern England. They would reunite for the second week and concentrate on London, Southampton, Portsmouth, Devon, and several of Southeastern England's airfields. Topnotch drivers and pilots were at their beck and call.

They had arrived at the dormitory on Saturday evening. For the better part of two days prior, they had traveled in an Army Air Force DC-3/C-47. They took off from Washington on Thursday, and after stops in Greenland and Iceland, their plane landed at USAAF Bassingbourn on Saturday afternoon. The five of them and their driver pressed into a staff car for the trip to London. The fifty miles took two hours because of the traffic. The English roads were crammed with invasion traffic. All five of them slept away most of Sunday.

Carol comforted Therese, “This week will fly by, Love. We’ll see you at Southhampton on Saturday.”

Therese hugged her and Con, and then she blew a kiss to Phil. Con took her hand, and they rushed to their vehicle. The driver, an Army Staff Sergeant, was holding their door open. They slipped in the back seat and waved goodbye.

Janice noted Carol’s glistening eyes. “She’ll be fine, C.”

Embarrassed, Carol dabbed the corner of her eye with her gloved fingertip. “I know, but …”

Phil stated, “I bet that’s our ride. A plain black Lincoln pulled up to the curb. The civilian dress of the driver could not disguise her military bearing. The attractive, petite brunette stepped up to Janice and extended her hand. “Dr. Sinclair, I’m Warrant Officer Constance Farrow.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Farrow. This is my personal assistant, Carol Aird, and our security detail, Gunnery Sgt. Phil McElroy.”

“Welcome to the world's largest supply depot, Miss Aird … Hello, Marine.

Phil smirked, “What do they call you? … Connie?”

“That’s right, Gunny.”

“Well, then, Connie, is it true that if not for the barrage balloons, this island nation would sink?”

Connie laughed, “I have no doubt, Phil. Hey, I’ll open the boot and help y’all with the bags.”

“Y’all?” asked Janice … where are you from, Honey?”

“Collinwood, Tennessee, Ma’am.”

“Oh, my! Three southerners to one Yankee, I’m hopelessly outnumbered.”

Carol and Phil laughed.

Carol asked Connie, “You said, ‘Boot,’ Connie. Have the Brits converted you?

“Oh, yes, Ma’am, I guess so. I didn’t even notice.”

After the bags were stowed away, Connie handed Janice a folder. “Dr. Sinclair, here’s an updated copy of our itinerary.”

“Thank you, Connie. I see that a flight to Lincolnshire is still first on the agenda. I’ll look over the rest of it as we drive to the airfield.”

“Yes, Ma’am. You callin’ shotgun, Phil?”

“I am.”

Janice asked, “Carol? Right or left?”

“You pick, Janice; I really have no preference.”

“Okay, then, I’ll take the right seat.”

They pulled away from the dormitory and dove into the busy London traffic.

*****

Therese found a distant P-51 Mustang to concentrate on as she stared at the cloudy English sky. She and Con were at a USAAF fighter group’s field, East Wrethem in Norfolk. They stepped into the officers’ mess for coffee and doughnuts while waiting for their transport. Their driver had dropped them off and headed back to London. Con went over and refilled his coffee cup. Therese was still sipping her first cup. Upon returning to their table, he mentioned, “Hey, that weather guy said that the weather in Ulster is nice today?”

She responded, “That’s good. I hope this flight to Northern Ireland is a smooth one.”

Con looked at her and nodded.

A minute later, they found themselves alone; it was the dead of the morning. Con glanced around the room and reconfirmed their lack of company. “Therese, I’m glad things are going well with Jitka Belivet. I appreciate your telling us about her troubled past.”

“Well, that long flight over the North Atlantic seemed like a perfect time. It allowed me to tell my mother’s story to all three of you. And with Carol at my side, it was easier than I feared.”

“I must say, T; you are a forgiving soul.”

“Don’t say that. She was deceived, abused, and left in a horrible predicament.”

“I guess so … and she was just a kid.”

“She was. I want you all to meet her and Mrs. Robichek someday.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

A few minutes later, Therese asked, “Do you miss, Mags?”

“I do. Honestly, Therese, I think she might be the one.”

Therese chuckled, “I knew it. You two have … I don’t know … chemistry, I guess.”

“Thanks, I respect your opinion, T.”

She smiled at him. This time she looked about to make sure they were still alone. “Boss, this may seem blunt, but why do you think they kept her alive at the hardware store?” I mean … they just killed that blackmailing photographer on the spot?”

“Wow!” He cleared his throat. “Um, I tell ya … the best Janice, Don, and I can figure is that the Bund felt Mags might be a useful bargaining chip at some point. They had been tailing me for days and had obviously seen her with me and followed her as well. One of them, probably the ranking OSS guy, must have been impressed by her part ownership in a magazine.”

“That makes sense; she is pretty well known.”

A second lieutenant burst into the mess. “Hey, Agent Slate, your plane is on approach. I’ve got a jeep out here to run you and your luggage out to meet it.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant. Therese girl, you ready?”

“Absolutely, boss.”

*****

On Tuesday morning, Carol and Phil chatted with 82nd Airborne enlisted men in their recreation room while Janice met with their division commander Brigadier General Gavin. Phil was doing his best at one-handed table tennis. Carol visited with the men about their hometowns and families as the veteran paratroopers exchanged war stories with Phil. They were fascinated by his Philippine accounts, and he, in turn, listened intently to their stories of parachute jumps into Sicily and Italy.

A senior NCO crushed on Carol. He was born and raised in Georgia near Carol’s ancestral home. That link and her beauty mesmerized the tough first sergeant. He was heartbroken upon hearing the OSS crew would be leaving that evening. He asked for an address to write her, but she demurred, stating that it was against her organization's policy. When it was time for Carol and Phil to join Janice, she shook the sergeant's hand, then impulsively gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. His men were awed seeing this softer side of their “top.”

They had supper with General Gavin at an enormous estate house. It had been converted into officers’ quarters. Janice and Carol shared a 2nd-floor bedroom in the structure that night, while Phil had a room of his own on the third floor. The rooms were warm and clean; they slept comfortably.

On Wednesday, they flew to a Scottish airfield. Located near Glenmore Lodge, the three were hosted by their British counterparts in the SOE. The Special Operations Executive operated an international training center at Glenmore Lodge and Forrest Lodge in Scotland. The SOE instructed personnel from the resistance forces of many nations. The team spent Thursday with the secret organization. Janice had a blast flexing her multilingual skills among the staff and students. Carol and Phil thought these folks were some of the bravest souls they had ever met.

They spent both Wednesday and Thursday nights at a cozy inn near the SOE facilities. On Friday, they flew to the Clyde in Scotland and spent the day with a Royal Navy officer and driver. He gave them a superb tour of the port and its expansive shipbuilding facilities. The Lieutenant dropped them at a nice hotel in Dumbarton that evening. They dined there and slept like the dead in their cozy rooms.

*****

On Friday evening, a fatigued Con and Therese ate supper at a Southampton restaurant. They agreed to do nothing after their meal save for walking directly to their hotel rooms and getting a good night’s sleep. They were excited about rejoining the OSS trio at Hamden Airfield in the morning; the five would have Saturday and Sunday on their own with no official duties.

They left the eatery and walked down the sidewalk towards their lodging. As they passed an alley, they heard laughter and a scream of pain from the darkness. With the blackouts, Con always carried a small flashlight. He fired it into the darkness. Two sailors held the arms of a black G.I. while a chief petty officer pummeled their bloodied victim.

Con had investigated enough racial hate groups for a lifetime early in his career. He blurted, “Chief, release that soldier … immediately.”

The NCO turned and angrily replied, “Who the fuck are you? Mind your own business and get the hell out of here!”

Con drew his badge, and with the flashlight in his left and badge in his right, he commanded, “I am Special Agent Slate with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’ll repeat it, release that soldier!”

The pair of swabbies complied, letting the thrashed soldier slump to his knees. The big petty officer took a step towards Con. Con warned, “That’s close enough, Chief … the three of you need to walk away right now.”

The middle-aged sailor fumed, “No! I don’t think we will walk away. You and your little Limey whore are the ones that need to walk away; you have no authority here, G-man. We caught this snowball flirting with a white woman. I might just beat him to death.”

Con pocketed the badge and drew his revolver. “No, Chief, I don’t think you will be doing anything of the kind. What’s your name?”

Proudly, the graying sailor stated, “Chief Petty Officer David Smithson, proudly serving my thirtieth year with the United States Navy.”

Hearing his name caused Therese’s anger at being called a ‘whore’ to shift to astonishment. His name, age, and overtly despicable character made her think of the sailor who raped her mother. Could this beast be her father?

One of the sailors mumbled. “Hey, Chief, let’s get the fuck out of here. We don’t need no trouble with the FBI.”

The other one, an older salt, joined in, “C’mon, Dave. We taught this darky his lesson. Let’s go!”  


David looked back at them, the panting soldier on the ground, and then back at Con. “Well, I guess we’ve done enough for one night.” He turned towards his men as if to relent.

Con had not noticed the brass knuckles David was wearing. David slipped them off in his turn, then spun and hurled them at Con. The half-pound of metal struck Con square in the forehead. Dazed, he dropped the revolver and flashlight as he stumbled backward. David leaped towards Con and was soon punching and kicking him. Therese had seen the revolver spin across the cobblestones before banging into a dustbin. In the dim light of a distant street light, she dove to recover the weapon.

The older sailor was quick. He grabbed Therese by the ankles and pulled her back. She dug her fingers into the cobblestone and pulled desperately away from him while putting the heel of one of her low pumps in his eye. He screamed and released her. Unfortunately, the younger sailor joined the fight by kicking Therese in the stomach. Her breath was gone, and her lungs locked. She gasped fruitlessly. Therese watched helplessly as the younger sailor scrambled to the garbage can and knocked it aside in search of Con’s .38 Special.

The soldier must have had some wherewithal remaining. He appeared from the darkness and tackled the younger sailor. Therese caught a breath and plunged her hands into the fetid accumulation at the base of the alley’s wall. She located the revolver and immediately spun to her feet, backing to the far wall and retrieving the flashlight along the way. She was thrilled to view Con holding his own with the petty officer. She fired a shot into the air and screamed, “Stop!”

Someone must have heard the ruckus and called for the police. Therese could hear a bobby’s whistle in the distance.

David and Con stood on wobbly legs. Con joined Therese and relieved her of the flashlight and handgun. Therese helped the soldier to a spot beside her, he sat down and propped his back against the wall. Con had the Naval personnel stand with their backs to the wall and their hands behind their heads.

Therese growled, “Con, angle the light to put some light on the Chief's face.”

Con complied.

Therese saw her own green eyes glaring back at her. “So, Dave, are you from South Alabama?”

He sheepishly replied, “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“Well, Daddy, Mother said you were probably from somewhere near Andalusia.”

“David was finely speechless for a moment. He stammered, “Let me see you.”

She nodded her consent to Con, so he shifted the beam to illuminate her face.

David studied the visage before him. “Well, I’ll be damned. My commander said that a little piece of trash and her daddy were asking around about a sailor named ‘Smith” … back in Norfolk. Then later, Momma wrote to me to say that some gal with a wimp was poking around Gantry.”

“I guess I was the wimp, you piece of shit.”

“Fuck you, my little bitch. I shoulda just wrung your momma’s neck after I fucked her and tossed her in the harbor.”

Therese spontaneously delivered a one-two combination to David’s nose and cheek. He collapsed to his side, ending when the side of his head slapped the cobblestone.

The police arrived, then the shore patrol, and lastly, a pair of army MPs. They all took notes. The military policeman took the soldier back to their infirmary. The shore patrol promised to take the three navy personnel to the brig. Con warned the shore patrolmen that he would be visiting their base the next morning to press charges, and heads would roll if the miscreants had been released.

The bobby suggested Con and Therese see a doctor. They thanked him and said they might do so the next day. Arm in arm, the Bureau pair resumed the journey to their hotel. They hurt like the dickens, but they had a spring in their step and a glow in their hearts.


	11. The Grey Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food? You got it!

* * *

Therese was startled awake by the sound of a key turning in her hotel room’s door lock; she tensed to react to a threat. The sight of Carol entering shocked yet elated Therese.

Carol set her suitcase and handbag down, then turned to close and lock their door. Carol could barely see Therese in the predawn light, but she did not want to hurt her lover’s eyes with the glare of electric light. “Hello, Sweetheart, I’m sorry if I startled you. We caught a train last night rather than wait for the morning flight. Thanks for registering in both our names. The desk clerk gave me a key. He gave Janice one for a single room, and Phil got a spare to Con’s. Of course, Con will not be disturbed; I saw P and J duck into Janice’s room.” Carol took off her hat and coat and then placed them in a chair near the room’s dresser. “Thank God I took the time to use the floor’s facility before coming in.”

“Did y’all catch a cab from the station?”

“No, our regular OSS driver, a woman named Connie Farrow, drove over here from London today and checked in yesterday. Janice called the desk from one of our stops, around eight o’clock, and they got word to Connie to pick us up this morning.”

“That was nice. Hey, what time is it?” asked Therese.

“It’s a quarter-to-six. We don’t have anything on our agendas today? Do you?”

“No … nothing at all.”

“Spectacular! We can cuddle and sleep all day.” Carol was quickly working through the removal of her clothes. “Love, what is that you have on? A nightgown?”

“Uh, huh.”

“Well, take it off, darling. I want to feel your skin against mine.”

“Okay.” Soreness had seeped into Therese’s muscles and joints as she slept. She moaned as she slipped the flannel garment up and off of her.”

Carol’s exquisite silhouette was framed against the window curtains. She paused. “Are you okay, Therese?”

“Well … no.”

“What happened? Are you okay? Here, I’m flicking on this lamp. I want to see you.”

Therese cried, “No, Carol. Please don’t. Just get under these covers and hold me. I’ve missed you so much.”

Carol complied and was soon under the covers. She wrapped her arms around Therese and gently pressed her breasts against Therese’s. It was a familiar sensation of which the two would never tire. They kissed. Carol shifted her legs to sandwich Therese’s thigh. Therese inhaled, “Ohh.”

“What the heck, Therese? You’re hurt.”

Carol reached for the little bedside lamp.

Therese pled, “No, no, … don’t.”

Carol gasped when the light came on. Carol eased Therese’s hands away from her face to examine the scuffs on her nose and forehead. Carol also caught the torn fingernails and bloodied knuckles on Therese’s hands. “Therese?”

“Turn it off … please.”

“Okay.” Carol turned the switch then rejoined her girlfriend.”

In between sobs, Therese told Carol of the encounter with David Smithson.

Sorrow and anger built in Carol, but she stayed quiet and listened until Therese completed the recount.

“My poor baby … my sweet, sweet girl. I love you, Therese, and I’m thankful the two you weren’t killed.”

“I love you, too, Carol.”

“I can’t believe that beast is your father.”

“But he is. I hate him.”

Carol gently rubbed Therese’s back. A bit more light was sneaking around the corners of the curtains, and Carol could now see Therese’s eyes. She peered into them. They were always the windows to her love’s soul, and she needed to assess the damage to the young woman’s spirit. Carol sighed with relief as she saw kindness, determination, and love. “Did you say that Con was going to find this Navy brig and press charges?”

“Oh … yes. He is, but I’m not going; I never want to see David Smithson again.”

“That’s a good idea, Sweetheart.” After a moment, Carol murmured, “I wish I had a drink.”

“Oh, I can help you with that.”

“What?”

“After seeing me to my room last night, Con left his pocket flask with me. I forgot about it. It’s in my handbag.”

Carol darted to retrieve the flask. “Bless his heart. Um, this is good.”

“It should be. It’s Vat 69.”

“Oh, you haven’t had a pull of this?”

“No, I just bathed across the hall then came back and passed out.”

“I’m sorry, love. Here, your turn.”

Therese propped on her elbow and took a swig of the whiskey. She squeezed her eyes shut and grinned.

Carol chuckled. “Poor Con could have probably used a shot, too.”

“Oh, he has a bottle of it. He’s fine.”

“That’s good. How bad was the impact from those brass knuckles?”

“It gashed his forehead. I used that first aid kit you packed for me to dress the wound. He may need a stitch or two. He’s going to see if a Corpsman or Navy doctor will check it out for him today.”

“Ouch.”

“Yep.”

They emptied the flask.

“Therese, you may need to testify.”

“I know, but Con is going to try his best to see if I can get by with a sworn statement.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed, darling.”

“Thanks … me, too. Hey, you need to get some sleep, Lady. Did you sleep any on the train?”

“A little.”

“Well, I’m feeling better. Let’s cuddle up and try to snooze.”

They fell asleep and did not rouse for hours. While Carol and Therese slept, Janice and Phil accompanied Con to the U. S. Naval station in Southampton. Unfortunately for Smithson and his buddies, the officer of the day was a Lieutenant Commander who happened to be the son of Quakers. He had already called for a Naval Solicitor to meet with them. The ball was rolling downhill towards the three racist brutes.

*****

The team gathered for dinner on Saturday night. Connie had recommended the restaurant across the street from the hotel. It was located in what was one of the sumptuous liner trade hotels before the war. The hotel was now officers' quarters, but the Five Star restaurant in its lobby was spared; traveling dignitaries and brass needed at least one top-notch dining facility in the port city. Connie’s boss pulled a string and got them a reservation. Janice and Con insisted she join them.

The unpleasantness from Friday night was a forbidden topic at dinner as Con, Janice, and Phil went to Therese and Carol’s room in the afternoon. They had delivered the good news about the pending prosecution of Smithson and his shipmates. A sea lawyer would come to the hotel and notarize Therese’s signed statement Sunday afternoon at three, and she would be done with it. In anticipation of this turn, Therese had already typed it out earlier. Carol, Con, and Janice proofed it and found it sincere, truthful, and grammatically flawless.

While awaiting their table, they had martinis at the restaurant’s bar. Janice mentioned that they were almost as good as Carol’s. After being seated for dinner, the waiter informed them that the restaurant served the best, but the selections were limited. They could choose between two main courses, and the other four courses were set in stone to match the main one.

Con asked, “And what are these two main courses?”

“Steak or fish?”

The travelers had not had steak since any of them could remember, so beef it was. After selecting a prewar Merlot, the hors d’oeuvres arrived, Black Olive Tapenade. At that point, the waiter mentioned their chef was one of Paris’s best; he had fled to Southampton in 1940.

Soupe à l'ail arrived next. Only Janice had ever experienced this garlic soup originating from southern France. Therese thought it one of the best things she had ever tasted, and Phil declared that he would be satisfied if the rest of the meal consisted of two more bowls of the soup accompanied by a loaf of the restaurant’s heavenly bread. That stood until the Salade Rachel arrived. A lovely combination of celery, truffles, artichokes, boiled potatoes, asparagus, and mayonnaise, the salad was perfectly balanced and delicious.

Oohs, ahs, and sighs greeted the filet de bœuf. Hardly a word was spoken as the six engaged their respective mouth-watering eight ounces of heaven. After this main course, they were a bit apprehensive about having room in their tummies for dessert. All fears were cast aside as a half-dozen petite dessert cups arrived. The Mocha Pots de Crème concluded their exemplary dining experience.

They applauded their Chef when he came out to meet them. With the war’s vital tasks predominating life, the culinary artist tactically avoided inquiring about the party’s occupations. The six-foot-two sixtyish man chose to exchange a brief pleasantry with each of the Americans. With years of international clients behind him, he concluded by guessing each state of origin based on their accents. He was at a loss with Janice but either spot on or only a state away with the other five.

They settled the bill, tipped generously, then walked off the rich meal in Southampton’s foggy streets. Carol and Janice anxiously observed Therese, expecting a bit of PTSD, but the tough little cookie was obviously over it.

There was a nip in the spring air, but they were warmly dressed and kept an invigorating pace. Their only pause was at the docks. The ships’ orchestral foghorns and the dockworkers’ unceasing offloading of war materials were mesmerizing.

Connie pointed into the depth of the fog bank before them. She exclaimed, “It’s the _Grey Ghost_!

Carol leaned over the rail to peer into the mist and finally saw it. There she was in her plain naval-grey paint scheme. It was the _Queen Mary_. Converted at the beginning of the war from a fast ocean liner carrying 2,500 passengers, she was now a stripped-down troopship carrying five to ten thousand soldiers at a time. All six of them could now see her.

Con stated, “I’ll be damned; what a treat. She sails so fast; the Royal Navy can’t even escort her. They say the Krauts have never even got a shot at her or her sister ship, the _Queen Elizabeth_. She’s over a thousand feet long and makes 33 knots while zigzagging.”

Carol did the conversion in her head and awed, “38 miles an hour?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Therese squeezed Carol’s hand, imagining something that big moving that fast. She whispered into Carol’s ear. “After the war, let’s take a trip on her.”

Earlier in the evening, Connie tried to flirt with Con, but she quickly found his heart taken. That did not prevent the vivacious couple from sharing a memorable, platonic evening. Therese had rolled her eyes when the pair discovered they were both Brooklyn Dodger fans.

After returning to the hotel, there was nothing platonic about the hours that followed for Carol and Therese. They had indeed missed one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/Ca0DwDg)  
> The _Queen Mary_ in Sydney, 1942.


	12. Together Again Then Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/PWE3xZA)  
>  A Plymouth P11 1941 staff car

On Tuesday, May 16, 1944, the team perched a safe distance from Devon’s amphibious assault training beaches. It was 07:00. The temperature was 48°, but the wind and an overcast sky made it feel much colder. They were close enough to a group of combat engineers to see the technicians start detonating their wired training charges. The surf, beach, and dunes before them erupted with ‘sound and fury.’

Sitting on a dune several feet up and behind the others, Carol and Janice covered their ears. Contrastingly, Therese stood grinning in a waist-high trench with Phil and Con’s arms around her. She laughed and giggled as the men howled with the explosions. The once distant Higgins boats and LCTs were nearing the shore. The engineers kept the explosions coming. The Higgins boats’ ramps dropped, spilling infantry into the surf. A Landing Craft Tank slid aground and efficiently disgorged its Sherman tank.

Later, the observant regimental commanders seemed pleased with the exercise upon its completion. Well over a thousand soldiers and dozens of vehicles now occupied the crest above the beach. Carol and Janice took meticulous notes while the “kids” enjoyed the show. Carol nudged Janice’s shoulder and chuckled, “I’m glad she’s having fun now; typing all this up is going to be a bear.”

Janice nodded with a smile.

The commanding colonel’s assistant, a handsome major, came over and took Therese’s hand. “Miss Belivet, do you want to come up and meet some of our men?”

“Yes! Thank you, Major Greer!” The major pulled while Phil and Con lifted; the sprite was propelled from the trench.

The major glanced at Carol and Janice. “Ladies, please join us!”

Carol smirked at Janice, “I guess we’ll have to settle for Con and Phil as escorts.”

They mingled with the soaked officers and enlisted men who “worked for a living.” The team joked and carried on with the troops, but all the while, they were mentally asking: _How are these men doing? What is their attitude? Are they sacred? Do they respect their leaders? Do their leaders respect them? Do they seem competent?_

Connie had their olive drab Plymouth P11 1941 waiting for them when they finished an hour later. They were off and bound for an Army medical training camp located a few miles north of Devon. The Army’s divisions rotated their field hospital units through the facility to better test them under simulated combat conditions.

After a quick tour, the team had lunch with the commander and his staff. They looked forward to the afternoon. A training exercise was scheduled for 14:00. While not as violent as the morning’s amphibious assault, the planners did a good job putting pressure and unexpected challenges on the doctors, nurses, and orderlies of the 1st Infantry Division.

Connie drove them back to Southampton that night. They ate supper along the way at an inn in Dorchester, fish and chips with pints of dark beer. They had to turn in early in Southampton; they were scheduled to depart for Portsmouth at half-past six in the morning.

*****

In their hotel room around nine, Phil sat in its only chair reading the paper as Janice returned from brushing her teeth and crawled in bed with a book in her hand. Without him noticing, she smiled at the lanky young man dressed in only his boxers and a tee shirt. After finishing his perusal, Phil folded the paper and tossed it on the dresser. “Doc, is this divorce thing for real?”

“Of course, darling. We got it all started in April. It will be done before we know it.”

“Really?”

Janice peered at him over her reading glasses. The usually confident Marine seemed more like a boy at that moment. “Of course, Phil. What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing’s the matter … well, I take that back. Would you ever consider marrying someone like me?”

Her eyes glimmered with tears. “Someone like you? Or, you?”

He blushed, “Me.”

“Well, I might, if he asked me.”

“Seriously? An uneducated jarhead with no lineage or style?”

Janice scolded, “Phil McElroy! Come here right now!”

He hesitantly stood, walked to the bed, and sat on the edge beside her.

She closed the book then placed it and her glasses on the nightstand. Janice took his hand in hers. Looking him in the eyes, she asked, “Darling, have I ever treated you in a manner that would warrant you asking that ridiculous question?”

“No, I guess not.”

“No, is right. Now, listen up, Marine. You are the toughest, bravest, gentlest, brightest, most honest, and the sweetest guy I’ve ever known … let alone lover extraordinaire. You have my respect, Phil, and my heart.”

He swallowed hard but failed to fight off a sniffle. “Your heart?”

“Yes, Phil. I love you.”

Shit, you beat me to it, woman; I love you so much it hurts.”

“Why does it hurt?”

“Because I never thought I could truly have you the way I want you.”

“How do you want me?”

“As my wife.”

“Phil, I’ve been honest with you. Think about this; I can’t have children.”

“I don’t care. When this damned war is over, and if you are okay with it, we’ll adopt a couple of orphans. I’d love to give them a home and family, unlike what Dannie, Therese, and I had.”

“Are you asking?”

Without hesitance, he answered, “Yes! Janice, will you marry me?”

“I’d be honored to be your wife and the mother of our children.”

Phil’s heart soared. “I can’t believe this. Lady, you’ve made me the happiest man on the face of the earth.”

“Well, then! Kiss me, Sir.”

“Hey, there ain't gonna be none of this 'open marriage' shit!”

“Of course there won't. Only you, darling.”

He leaned in and passionately kissed Janice. They broke the kiss long enough for Phil to roll over the top of her and scoot under the covers. She flicked off the lamp and rejoined his lips with hers. She felt him harden against her leg. “That’s another thing I love about you, McElroy.”

Phil laughed and reached down to pull off his boxers as she wriggled out of her panties.

*****

Just after dawn on Saturday, May 20, 1944, Therese and Carol, eager to get home, led the team to their flight’s airstair. They clambered up the steps and made their way forward. It would be an exciting flight. They were flying from Thurleigh. Located in Bedfordshire, it was the home of the United States Army Air Force’s 306th Bombardment Group. Their chariot was the latest in air transport, a Lockheed C-69 Constellation. At the behest of Howard Hughes, Lockheed began developing this long-range, high altitude airliner in 1939. Given the war’s deleterious effect on civilian airlines, the Army jumped on the sleek four-engine beauty quickly; they and the Navy acquired virtually all Constellation production. Instead of the original design’s three-score seats, the C-69 had a few somewhat comfortable seats in forward while the aft was reserved for high-priority cargo. Our five were the only passengers. The cargo bay was packed with mail. Unlike any other aircraft the team members had ever flown in, the C-69 had a pressurized cabin. Therefore, they would be flying at around 20,000 feet with a cruising speed of 230 mph. After a single two-hour refueling stop in Gander, Newfoundland, they landed in D.C. on Sunday morning.

An OSS driver met Janice and Phil, while an FBI agent-in-training drove Con, Carol, and Therese home.

Carol and Therese had made sure their cupboards were bare before leaving two weeks earlier, but they had nothing to eat. No markets were open on Sunday, so they went to their favorite café and had the Sunday Special. It was a well-prepared piece of codfish with vegetables and a roll. Saturday’s apple pie was still fresh enough for dessert.

They had changed into walking clothes before leaving their apartment. Carol and Therese weren’t sleepy; everyone slept quite well during the flight. Sadly, they had missed Washington’s cherry blossoms, but the city still made for a lovely afternoon walk. The afternoon temperature was 58°. With a slight breeze and clear sky, one could not ask for more.

At one point, Therese sighed, “We only have three days to compose, type, and edit these reports for Mr. Hoover and General Donovan.”

Carol poked her girl’s arm and stated, “Oh, we’ll join up with the others and knock all that out with ease … no more talk about it today. This is our fun day.”

Therese smiled at her lover then nodded in agreement.

Wonderfully relaxed, they returned to the Potomac around four. The lovers made out in the elevator on the way up. After rushing to their apartment, they resumed the kiss and embraced while working on the removal of each other’s jackets, shirts, and slacks. Quickly in the buff, they collapsed on the bed and finger-fucked each other silly. The sweat chilled them. The couple crawled under the covers and assumed the 69 with Therese on top for a change. The women were so in tune; their thighs quivered in harmony as they came together. They caught their breath and swapped to repeat the act. “God, I love you!” murmured Carol. Therese could only manage a snicker as she tongued her lover’s clitoris.

Later, the room was pitch save for the glow of their cigarettes. Therese noted, “Now, I’m hungry again.”

“Me, too.”

“I guess we're screwed.”

Carol laughed at the word choice. Then she thought of something. “Therese, turn on the lamp.” Carol darted to the closet and dove into its far corner. She emerged with a cardboard box.

Therese commented, “Oh, I saw that back in there once when I was cleaning. I meant to ask you about it.

“Well, darling, I put this together back when I first moved here.

“You mean … even before I had joined you?”

“Yep. I’d forgotten about it until now.” Carol plopped down on the bed and pulled the string that secured the box's lid.

Sitting cross-legged on either side of the container, they peered into it. Carol exclaimed, “It’s survival rations. The food shortages really made this girl nervous.”

Therese giggled as she pulled one can each of sardines and Spam from the box. Carol plucked out a tin of crackers. “Wow!” said Therese as she lifted and examined a small bottle of wine. You ration in style, woman!”

“Of course, Kitten. You know your Carol.”

“Oh, I do.”

After Carol took out a large can, Therese’s hands emerged with the last of the treasure; Carol’s sweetheart had a can of black olives in one hand and a jar of Mrs. Lucy Liner’s strawberry preserves in the other. “Damn, Momma’s strawberry preserves on saltines are the cat’s pajamas!”

Carol tilted her head back, laughing in utter joy.

Therese asked, “What’s that big can in your hand?”

Carol answered, “Oh, it’s Pinto beans.” She shrugged and tossed the can back in the box. “Fuck those!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/gAXqby9)  
> A Lockheed C-69 Constellation.


	13. Green-eyed Monster

“Hello,” Therese groggily murmured after leaving a snuggly bed to answer the phone.

“T?”

“Con?”

“Yep … hey, go turn your radio on to NBC.

Now she was awake. “It’s happening?”

“It is!”

“Okay. Thanks!”

“Sure thing.”

Carol had heard and was already fishing for her slippers; they had worked their way under the bed.

Therese had bypassed her own slippers and robe. Carol brought them to her as Therese awaited the radio to warm up. She tuned in to NBC Radio. They heard an excited voice, “... a report says that heavy fighting is taking place between the Germans and invasion forces on the Normandy peninsula about thirty-one miles southwest of Le Havre. Another bulletin …”

Carol glanced at their wall clock. It was 03:30 a. m., and after a quick conversion, she squeezed Therese’s hand. “It’s 09:30 a.m. there; they’ve probably been at it since midnight.”

“Oh, that’s right. Those paratroopers we talked to … they would have jumped in darkness.”

Carol noted, “Yes, and the amphibious troops would have landed at the break of dawn. Hey, Janice was right; it’s Normandy!”

Therese firmly stated, “Tuesday, June 6, 1944.”

The two women listened intently for the better part of two hours to the NBC special broadcast. They were too excited to go back to bed, so they made coffee and baked biscuits. One Allied official after the other filtered over the airways to address the world. The markets were out of butter, so they spread oleo on their hot biscuits. Lucy Liner’s jarred delights were all gone. They used honey.

The two reluctantly turned the radio off at six and went to the gym. The gym had recently added a “big bag,” and Therese pummeled it relentlessly. Carol did her cycling-in-place for half an hour. Everyone else must have stayed home glued to their radios, so Therese and Carol played an intense basketball game of one-on-one.

Later, Carol dropped Therese at the FBI building then wove through the Capital’s traffic to make it to Navy Hill at eight. She wished Carol had wanted to work from home, but they had an instructor’s meeting scheduled for the morning.

Janice and Phil greeted her with celebratory hugs.

Carol chimed, “Janice, you got it right!”

“What? Oh, Normandy? Yes, quite crafty, those generals and admirals.”

Phil remarked, “Yeah, I bet we caught the Krauts with their pants down.”

Across town, Therese spotted an overflow crowd in the break room. And there were Don and Con poised over the radio hanging on every word.

Con glanced up and spotted Therese. “Hey, Buddy, keep me updated. My boss is here.” The others laughed as Con hurried to join his secretary. Con had two letters to get out, and Therese had let him procrastinate the dictation of them the day before. As they hurried to their office, Con exclaimed, “Holy Cow, Therese! Is that a new dress?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

With a sarcastic grin, he replied, “No. The guys will be dropping by all day with excuses to come in and get a glimpse of you.”

She gently punched his arm and said, “No, they won’t.” But she realized he was probably right and almost regretted wearing it.

Con saw her glance down at the green number and then back up with a look of concern. He quickly noted, “But I’m glad you dressed so special for this extraordinary day. It’s only right.”

She loved Con; he always knew the right thing to say. They went straight to work on the correspondence.

*****

On Thursday, Therese returned from lunch and got a phone call from Lilly on the switchboard. “Therese, Carol wants you to catch a ride home with Con. Something came up. Oh, she said not to hold supper. My, you two are like an old married couple.”

Therese chuckled, “If you only knew, Lilly. Thanks!”

“Your welcome, Therese. Have a nice afternoon.”

“You, too.”

Therese shrugged. _It must have come up suddenly, or she would have mentioned it earlier. Oh, well … a lonely evening._

Con waited until Therese got to the Potomac’s door before he pulled away from the curb. She waved at him.

“Busy Thursday, Miss Belivet?”

“Yes, Mr. Champion, it was. How about your day?”

“Oh, you know, same old same old … just the way I like it.”

She laughed and patted his arm.

“Is Miss Aird working late?”

“Yes, I doubt if she’ll be home before your shift ends.”

“Aw, I’ll miss her sweet smile.”

Therese nodded and turned for the elevator. Upon entering their apartment, Therese changed into her pajamas, robe, and slippers, then went to the kitchen to warm some soup. The Bureau’s cafeteria had served a filling lunch, so she was not very hungry. The tomato soup and saltines hit the spot. It was cool for June, and the soup felt good in her tummy.

As she cleaned up, Therese absently mindedly tossed the empty soup can in the garbage. She reached to retrieve it, rinse it out, and place it in the tin-drive bin, but she noticed a piece of paper was stuck to it. Therese pulled the icky scrap free to drop it back into the garbage. She paused after spotting the name “Elise,” signed in an unfamiliar hand. Therese’s curiosity got the better of her; she held the saturated note up to the light to view the meat of the message.

 _Carol,_

_It’s not far from Charlie’s. Let’s grab dinner there first._

_Elise_

Therese asked, “What’s not far from Charlie’s, and who the hell is Elise.”

Therese bit her lip. She shrugged it off then went to the living room to listen to the war news on the radio. Therese was glad to hear that the Allies had secured their Normandy beachheads, but reading between the lines, she deemed that the progress inland was going slowly and at great cost.

Therese could not get the note out of the back of her mind. She remembered meeting a co-worker of Carol’s once who was named Elise. That personage was a tall redhead with crystal blue eyes. The encounter was brief, but Therese recalled picking up that certain vibe on her radar. The woman sure seemed to like women.

Therese tried to play solitaire but could not concentrate. She put the cards up and walked to the bedroom. “T” was jealous. After changing into slacks, shirt, sweater, and flats, Therese grabbed a cab for Charlie’s in Bethesda, an upscale restaurant.

A block from Charlie’s, Therese had the cabby pull over. She paid him and exited the vehicle. With a degree of stealth, Therese neared Charlie’s from across the street. There was a bit of sunlight left; she nonchalantly gazed at shop windows while sneaking side-glances into Charlie’s big windows. Therese’s heart sank. She spotted Carol sitting at a small window table with the gorgeous redhead named Elise.

Therese entered a drug store and ordered a soda at its ice cream counter. Perched on her stool, she could view Carol but not Elise. Carol was effervescent. Therese’s partner smiled charmingly between bites and occasionally tilted her head back for one of those Carol-laughs that typically made Therese moist, but in this instance, angered her.

“Are you sure I can’t get you a scoop of vanilla or a doughnut, honey? The doughnuts are fresh today.”

Therese had trouble refocusing on the skinny soda jerk. “Oh, thank you. But no, the Coke is all I need.”

“Okay, but I’m right here if you need anything else.”

Therese nodded and smiled at him. He turned to attack his sink full of dishes and glasses.

The soft drink went straight through the nervous young woman. She stepped to the back to use the drug store’s restroom. Upon returning, Therese found Carol gone. Not waiting for his tab, Therese slapped twice the cost of her drink down on the counter and rushed to the street. She was relieved to spot Carol and Elise in the distance. They were two blocks away.

Therese quickly closed the gap to one block then slowed her pace. She cautiously followed them. She had not noticed their car parked down the street when the cabby dropped her earlier. Therese was surprised when Carol and Elise walked past it. They turned east at the next corner.

Therese suddenly felt guilty and foolish. _Therese, you ninny! It would break Carol’s heart to know that you were spying on her like this._ Therese started to break off the tail and head away in the opposite direction to hale another cab and return to the Potomac. After a pause, paranoia won out; she pressed on. At the corner, Therese subtly glanced around it and spotted her “suspects” walking up the hill towards the hospital.

Therese watched until they reached the top and turned to enter the hospital. Therese’s jealousy subsided slightly, but her investigative nature propelled her to climb the grade and follow them into the medical building.

There was no sign of Carol or Elise in the lobby. She sat in the waiting area, trying to decide what to do. A few minutes later, the receptionist called out to her. “Ma’am, I’m not sure how long you have to wait, but you’re more than welcome to enjoy the entertainment in the cafeteria.”

“Entertainment?”

“That’s right. Every Thursday night, the Junior League provides a show for our convalescing servicemen. It will start in a few minutes.” The young lady pointed down a hall to her left.

Therese cautiously walked in the indicated direction. She heard a piano in the distance. A peek into the cafeteria revealed supper was cleaned up and put away. The room was draped with crepe paper ribbons. At least two hundred patients filled the dining hall. A glance at the makeshift stage found her Carol warming up at the piano and Elise standing at a microphone to Carol’s front.

Therese waited until the show started. Carol's musical talent never ceased to amaze her. And what a voice Elise had! The audience was enraptured.

After Carol and Elise finished George M. Cohan’s "Over There." Therese took advantage of the thunderous applause to slip down the hall and depart the building. She walked for several blocks. Then just before dark, she caught a cab home.

Carol came in all a bubble at ten. She kissed Therese sweetly then exclaimed, “Therese, you wouldn’t believe what I got myself into tonight!”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Do you remember that gal I work with named Elise? You met her a while back.”

“Oh, yes … I think so … the redhead?”

“I know! It's crazy-red. Anyway, she’s in the Junior League, and she had heard about my piano playing from Janice and Phil. She asked me to accompany her while she sang to the guys and gals at the Naval Hospital. We rehearsed a couple of times at lunch using an old piano at the Hill.”

“Wow!” Therese feigned surprise.

“Yes. I’m sorry for not inviting you; I was afraid I would bomb, and the thought of you seeing me do that broke my heart. If it had been a disaster, I don’t think I would have ever been able to tell you about it.”

“Oh, Carol. I hate that you felt that way. I would have been proud of you sink or swim.”

Carol spontaneously kissed Therese again. “You are such a doll. I should have taken you. I feel guilty now.”

“Nonsense!”

Carol smiled and coyly tilted her head to the side. She chimed, “Sweetheart, it went great. Elise asked me if I would perform with her again next month. Will you go with us that night?”

“Of course! I can’t wait.”

“Shit, these heels are killing me, and I sweat through my undies. I was as nervous as a cat. I gotta shower and change.” Carol hugged her girl once more before scurrying to the bedroom.

After she heard the shower start and Carol begin to sing, Therese slumped onto the living room couch and began to sob. She let it all out. Therese needed to get this emotional release over and done with, and then wash her face at the kitchen sink. It would be hard to keep Carol from noticing the evidence of a boohoo fest, but Therese had to try.


	14. Merry Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/uKJfkSa)   
> 

Jitka Belivet and her partner, Ruby Robichek, closed their Atlantic City shop early on Christmas Eve, 1944. While Carol and Ruby worked on the mashed potatoes and a Swiss Green Bean Casserole in the kitchen, Therese and Jitka read Sunday’s _New York Times_. Sprawled across the coffee table, war news dominated the newspaper’s busy front page. There were a couple of articles about the Pacific Theater, but the news from Europe was the weight of the reporting. Mother and daughter perched side by side on the sofa leaning forward to study a map showing the “Bulge” in the Allied front lines. The two were relieved to discover that the massive German counteroffensive had slowed. Patton had pulled his 3rd Army from an engagement in the south and driven men and equipment into the Nazi’s flank. The temperature in the Ardennes was below zero with snow several feet deep, but the cloudy low-pressure front had passed, making it possible for American and British aircraft to fly. The Allied aviators had resumed their strafing and bombing of the German forces.

Ruby tilted her steaming pot of beans, onions, and cheese into a casserole dish. Carol worked with a large spoon to make sure every strand of the concoction was transferred. Ruby set the pot aside as Carol moved to the oven door. Ruby opened it and scooted the roast beef to make room for the bean dish. Carol gingerly slipped in the casserole dish. Ruby closed the door. They stood and grinned at one another. The smells from the oven filled the entire second-floor residence.

Ruby washed her hands, then shifted to make room for Carol to do the same. As Ruby passed the hand towel to Carol, she whispered, “We are so pleased that the two of you could join us for Christmas, but we hate that Therese can’t be with Mrs. Liner and her daughter. Is she really okay with it all?”

“Of course. Don’t fret, Ruby. Therese and her Alabama family were thrilled with our Thanksgiving visit. Her brother was home on leave as well. It was perfect timing. Mrs. Liner insisted that Therese spend Christmas with Jitka.”

“Well, it’s wonderful.”

“It is.”

Carol returned to her potatoes while Ruby kneaded the dough for their rolls.

They ate around seven in the evening and later played cards while chatting. Ruby and Jitka were fascinated by the two younger women’s adventuresome lives. Carol and Therese could not speak of most things, but there were plenty of adventures they could share. Therese chose not to tell Jitka about her run-in with David Smithson. After discussing the matter with Carol, they had decided it was best not to worry Jitka and Ruby about the disturbing encounter.

On the preceding Thursday, Ruby and Jitka spruced up what used to be Jitka’s bedroom. They had stored boxes of outdated women’s accessories in the room for years. Motivation arrived after Carol and Therese accepted Jitka and Ruby's invitation to spend Christmas in Atlantic City; the storeowners either tossed the stale inventory or donated it to charity. Carol and Therese crawled into the freshly laundered bedding at midnight, cuddled up, and slept like the dead.

On Christmas morning, the four women made coffee and hot chocolate in volume. They set up two tables in front of the store and joined forces with their neighbor, a baker, to serve hot drinks and doughnuts to all the passing soldiers and civilians. There was no charge for the food and drink; it was the merchants' way of giving back to their community. Unfortunately, Therese did not spot her father peering at them from a distant corner.

*****

On May 25th, some Alabama-born Admiral who Smithson had served under in the 30s pulled a string and got him released from the brig. Another factor had figured into that release, Smithson commanded a group of Higgins boats bound for Omaha Beach. He was greatly missed in that regard.

On the 6th, a howitzer round hit his command craft as his boats delivered the first wave of infantrymen to the ill-fated shoreline. A three-inch piece of shrapnel gashed his thigh to the femur while another smaller fragment shattered the same leg’s kneecap. A nearby crew saved him from drowning, but he would never walk normally again despite the Navy surgeon’s best efforts.

After assuring himself that Therese and Jitka were indeed in Atlantic City, the former sailor turned and limped away. Smithson took a laborious circular route reconnoitering their neighborhood. He especially studied the ally running behind the candy and smoke shop. Reeling with pain, the fiend returned to his hotel room a few blocks away. In his third floor room, Smithson chased two pain pills with several gulps of Wild Turkey. He needed time to let the narcotics and booze relieve his physical agony and the cover of darkness to satiate his festering hatred.

*****

The women took a Christmas walk after a light lunch. It was cold and windy, but the sky was clear. They dressed warmly and kept a brisk pace. Therese was thrilled by Jitka’s and Ruby’s good physical condition. She reasoned all the hard work in their store kept them well exercised. At midafternoon, they returned to the second-floor lodging and played bridge. The mother and daughter team proved a formidable opponent for Ruby and Carol.

At five, Ruby and Jitka had their guests sit and relax while the two older women prepared a tummy-warming supper of potato soup and hard rolls. After the dishes were done, the women moved to the living room and enjoyed a Christmas-themed radio broadcast. The fresh air and exercise of the day snuck upon them; all four nodded off on the soft couch and two comfy chairs.

A knock on the back door awakened Jitka around ten. It wasn’t very loud, and she feared that the friend or neighbor might have been pecking for quite some time as the women slumbered. The others had not stirred, and Jitka did not want to disturb them. She hurried down to the store and made her way to the back door. She could not see anyone standing on the stoop in the moonlight. After flicking on the light and still seeing no one, she assumed the party gave up and left. Jitka opened the door to see if she could catch them. From the shadows, David Smithson swung a nightstick delivering a glancing blow to the crown of Jitka's head.

Driven by adrenalin, he lifted his petite victim and lifted her over his shoulder. He ignored the searing pain in his afflicted leg as he carried her to his automobile. It was parked in the alley. Smithson was elated. He had no way of knowing which or how many of the females would answer the late-night knock at their back door. Jitka’s emergence from the house was a dream come true for the sadist. He formulated his ghastly plan before as he drove off. If she was already dead or died on their departure from town, so be it; Smithson would leave the body stripped naked in the snow. In an advance reconnoiter, Smithson had found a stretch of road just outside of town. It ran along the side of an orchard. That would be a perfect place to dump Jitka's body; a passerby would spot it in a day or two. If Jitka regained consciousness, he would rape her, then bludgeon the life from her. Either way, Jitka's horrid fate would crush his daughter. He may look Therese Belivet up in the future and do the same to her, but not before the “little FBI bitch” had suffered many a sleepless night envisioning her mother’s demise. Smithson reached over and placed his hand under Jitka’s nose; she was still breathing. “Good! You are still a fine looking piece of ass. I’m gonna wear you out.”

*****

Therese awoke to the sound of footsteps going down the stairs to the first floor. She had been in her mother’s life long enough to recognize Jitka's fairy-footsteps on the stairs. That notion was confirmed when she noticed Jitka’s chair empty. The radio program had long since ended. Therese arose and clicked the radio off. In the silence, she heard what must be Jitka opening the back door, followed by a heavy thump. Therese followed her instincts and went to the guest bedroom to glance out of the rear window. Illuminated by the back porch light, Therese gasped in horror; a large man was carrying her mother over his shoulder towards the gate at the back of the store owners’ victory garden. She watched long enough to see him place Jitka in a dark-colored Ford and head north.

Therese raced to the living room and shook Carol awake. “Grab your coat and purse, Carol.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain as we go, Carol. C’mon … dammit!”

Ruby had roused. Therese barked as she put on her coat, “Ruby, call the police and tell them that someone just abducted Jitka! They headed north in a black or navy colored Ford sedan.”

“Oh, my God!”

“I promise you, Ruby. We will get her back. Now call the police.”

Carol had heard what Therese told Ruby; now, she was fully focused. She had her coat on. She fished the car keys from her purse along with her Smith & Wesson Terrier .38 caliber revolver. She slipped the small handgun into her coat pocket.

“Carol, go start the car. I’ll be along in a sec. Here take my purse for me.”

While Carol descended the stairs, Therese turned to Ruby. Her mother's loving companion was anxiously waiting on the operator to raise the police. “Ruby, do y’all have a gun of any type.”

Ruby thought for just a second, then rattled off, “Yes, a man settled his charge account with a rifle once. It is in that closet … there, standing in the corner. The cartridges are on the shelf up top.” Then she spoke into the phone, “Uh, yes, I want to report an assault and kidnapping. Yes, I’ll hold, but this is an emergency. Hurry!” Therese lifted the .22 caliber rifle in one hand and reached up with the other to snag the little box of rimfire ammunition. As she hurried to the stairwell, Ruby stated, “It is only a single-shot Therese, but it shoots true. Jitka used it to kill two rabbits in the garden last spring.”

Therese paused, “Ruby, what route do you think this guy would take if he were heading north … you know, like in a hurry to leave town?”

“He might take Ventnor, then turn left on Albany Avenue towards Pleasantville.”

Therese waved in confirmation as she took two stairs at a time to the first floor. Upon reaching their car, she found that Carol had the engine started and was scraping frost from the windshield. As they had done so often, Carol tossed the scrapper to Therese to clear the passenger side of the windshield. When Therese finished, she joined Carol and slammed her door closed. “Let’s go!”

“Which way?” asked Carol as she depressed the clutch and shifted the vehicle into reverse. The Washingtonians had parked their car in the tiny driveway that ran along the store's south side. Ruby and Jitka did not own a motor vehicle.

“Turn right on Ventnor and look for Albany Avenue in a few blocks.”

“Okay.” Carol eyed the rifle at Therese’s side. They had a rifle?”

“Yes … it’s just a .22, but I bet I could shoot him in the head in this moonlight.”

Carol announced, “There’s Albany.” Ignoring the red light and without a car in sight, Carol ran the signal and accelerated to seventy as she blew through intersections. Carol reasoned that Jitka’s assailant would be cautiously obeying all traffic signals as he tried to sneak out of town with an unconscious woman in his vehicle. She was gambling. They were gambling, but they could close on him quickly if he had indeed taken this route. She glanced at Therese. Carol saw a tear run down Therese’s cheek. Therese stared intently ahead of them. “Therese, it will all be okay. We’ll get her back.”

“Carol, I didn’t tell you something that I should of.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Con has kept tabs on David Smithson.”

“Your father?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Con told me that David Smithson was released from the military jail then wounded on D-Day. He suffered a severe leg injury and got a medical discharge in the fall.”

“Shipped home?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Oh, my.”

“Yep.”

In the pre-war gambling town, Christmas-night traffic at ten would have been heavy, but the war-town was practically one big Army camp nowadays; there was scant traffic.

They crossed the bridge at Beach Thoroughfare. In unison, they exclaimed, “Taillights!”

They rapidly closed on the Ford. Carol slowed as she neared the vehicle and began to keep a couple-hundred yard's distance.

They followed the Ford through Pleasantville. Eventually, their suspect lead them onto Black Horse Pike, and the area became more rural with intermittent woods and fields. They kept hoping that a police car, prompted by Ruby’s call, would appear in their rearview mirror.

“Oh, Carol! What if my mother isn’t in that car?”

“Well, darling, that could be the case, but we had to take a chance. I think it is the right car. Doesn’t that look like it?”

“Yes, but think about how many black Ford sedans there are.”

“I know, bu—”

“He’s slowing down!”

“Yes … and now he’s turning right. Therese, don’t panic, but I’m driving past the turn so as not to alert him.”

“Oh, that’s smart, Carol. I’ll keep watching him until you stop and turn back.”

“Good girl.”

Carol saw a pull-off up ahead and slowed to turn around. “T, can he see me turn around now?”

“No, but hurry. I can’t see him anymore.”

Carol slipped off the shoulder and made a U-turn. She eased back down the two-lane highway. Therese said, “Carol, I think he stopped and turned his lights off in those woods.”

“That looks like some kind of orchard.”

“It does.”

“I’m going to ease past where he turned off and park on the road far enough down where he won’t see us.”

“We can park and walk to his car.”

“That’s right, darling. Are you up for this?”

“Are you?” Carol reached over and squeezed Therese’s hand.

There was no traffic on the highway at this hour. They left their purses. Carol tightly gripped the Terrier in her right hand. Months ago, Phil had given them a military issue flashlight. Carol held it in her left hand, but they agreed it was best to leave it turned off. They could see well enough in the moonlight to see their footing. Therese shook the little ammo box to dispense a half-dozen of the cartridges in the palm of her left hand. She dropped the box of ammunition in her left coat pocket. Therese inserted one of the tiny cartridges in the rifle's chamber, pushed the bolt forward, and rotated the bolt handle down. Now, she would just have to pull back the cocking knob when she was ready to fire.

They were so glad they had stayed in their trousers and sweaters after the Atlantic City walkabout. It was well below freezing, and the surrounding woods and fields were white with snow from the week before.

The pair walked for what seemed like forever before the Ford's dark shape appeared in the shadows. Therese was both elated and terrified as she heard the screams of a woman from inside the vehicle. _She’s alive. Oh, my God! What is he doing to her? Not again, you pig!_

Carol tried but failed to grab Therese’s sleeve as her love raced ahead. All Carol could do was back her partner’s play. Therese jerked the driver’s side door open, just in time to see Jitka deliver a heel to the distracted David Smithson’s face. He flopped back out of the vehicle. His back landed on the hard frozen ground.

Carol flipped on the flashlight and shined it directly into Smithson’s eyes. He winced and swept a hand across his bleeding nose. “What the fuck?” he growled.

Carol commanded, “Stay down, or we’ll shoot you!”

Therese yelled into the car, “Mother, are you alright?”

“Therese?”

“Yes, Ma’am! It’s Carol and me. We have guns on this creep. You can come out now.”

Smithson began pulling at Jitka’s skirt and panties as soon as he parked. She awoke in a panic and thrashed him like a wildcat. Her clothes were disheveled but intact. Jitka groggily exited from the passenger side and leaned on the car behind Therese.

Smithson cursed and clambered to his knees. The four-inch blade of his switchblade glinted in the flashlight's beam. Carol barked, “Stop, or—”

He lunged for Carol. Therese fired Jitka’s rifle at the moving target. The 40-grain lead round nose bullet entered between two of Smithson’s ribs and passed through both lungs before slamming into a far rib; it had clipped his heart along the way. Despite his adrenalin and rage, the pain made him stumble. He quickly regained his feet and resumed his advance towards Carol.

Carol back stepped and dropped the flashlight. With both hands grasping the Terrier, she fired as Phil had coached her. _Carol, keep pulling through that double-action trigger until your target goes down._

Smithson sank to his knees with all five of Carol’s .38s dispersed between his lungs and stomach. Carol retrieved the flashlight, and once again, shone it on Smithson.

Therese stared in disbelief; there was still fight in her father’s eyes. Smithson reached down to retrieve his dropped knife. Therese had reloaded the small game rifle but fumbled away the rest of the cartridges in the process. She had one shot. Therese pulled back the Model 67 Winchester’s cocking knob until it's sear engaged. Therese was stunned by her mother’s interaction; she gave no resistance as Jitka plucked the rifle from her daughter’s hands and shouldered the weapon. Jitka had just realized who this monster was. She aimed at the man of her nightmares.

He turned his head toward her and slurred, “You bitch.”

Jitka could not discern the rifle’s sights in the poor lighting, but he was only a few feet away. She aligned the barrel on his bloodied face. “Go to Hell, sailorman.”

The decorated Chief Petty Officer would have been better off going straight home to Alabama. His lights went out as a small metallic object traveling at the speed of sound struck his left tear duct before traversing his skull.

The women found themselves shaking uncontrollably. They huddled on the ground at the side of Smithson’s car. Unnoticed by them, a police car had pulled up on the highway after spotting Carol and Therese’s maroon Plymouth. One of the cops was walking to the Plymouth when the shooting started. He jumped back into the cruiser, and his buddy cautiously drove them towards the sound and flash of the shots.

One cop was a rookie. He stood in shock as he absorbed the scene. The other, a veteran of many the Atlantic City altercation, already had two blankets in his hands. He wrapped them around the women then turned to view the body bleeding out into the crusty snow. Jitka was in the middle with Carol to her left and Therese to her right. The old cop patted Carol and Therese’s shoulders. “Jitka, you gals did real good. That guy, whoever he is, will never bother anybody ever again. How about I leave this kid out here to watch over things while I drive you all back into town? We can get you warmed up and take your statements. On second thought, maybe we better stop at the hospital first; I think a doc should check you out.”

The women nodded and slowly stood. They glanced down at their firearms; the rifle and handgun lay side by side on the ground.

“Just leave ’em. I’m sure you’ll get them back.”

Jitka was cognizant enough to recognize her old friend and customer. “Thanks, Mitch.”

“You’re welcome, Jitka … just doin’ my job.”

As he led them to the squad car, the old cop ordered, “Billy, come get your heavy coat on, son; you’re gonna need it. Oh, and don’t touch a damned thing until the watch commander or I return.”

“There’s a switchblade beside him, Mitch.”

“I know! Leave it alone … just like the guns, okay?”

“Yes, Sir

Mitch opened the back door of his cruiser and grabbed Billy’s coat. Carol, Jitka, and Therese scooted into the back seat. Mitch closed the door then tossed Billy his coat.

As Billy donned his coat, he smiled with relief; he saw another police car approaching.

Mitch chuckled, “There ya go, Billy; now you won’t be alone.”

Carol asked Mitch if they could stop at the Plymouth and get their handbags. Mitch hopped out, put Carol’s keys under the front seat, and retrieved their handbags. As they returned to town, Mitch passed a thermos bottle back to Carol. “Have some coffee, ladies; it’s from Jody’s Diner … the best.”

Carol screwed off the cup and passed it to Therese. Therese held it tightly in her still shaking hands as Carol poured. The daughter gently held the steaming cup up to her mother’s lips. Jitka sighed as the hot black liquid slid down her throat.

Jitka uttered, “I love you two.”

“We love you, too, Mother,” whispered Therese.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/ZMdcEYq)   
> 


	15. Date Nights

Therese pulled at her bindings, but struggle as she may, the straps around her wrists and ankles would not give. She surrendered once again. Her abs tensed in anticipation of the next assault. Carol teasingly paused. She chuckled, thinking about the surprise her next act would inflict on the alabaster beauty tied to their bedposts. Carol carefully crawled across Therese to make sure the velvet ropes were not injuring her lover. Therese tried to plant a kiss or snatch a nibble as Carol completed the inspection, but Carol pulled away, dodging the sweet little mouth, and giggled, “Uh-uh-uh!”

Therese glared at Carol.

Grinning, Carol reached down to the side of the bed and plucked a cube from her strategically placed ice bucket. Carol straddled Therese and commanded, “Close your eyes.”

“Fine!” Therese squeezed them shut.

Carol touched the frozen weapon to Therese’s nipple. Therese gasped and opened her eyes. “Carol Aird! You devil!”

Carol slowly lifted the ice cube above her target; she massaged it with her fingertips to induce melting. Therese gritted her teeth as the frigid bullets slowly rained across her breasts then back to her cleavage. Carol touched the ice cube to Therese’s sternum, and after a few seconds, Carol drew it slowly down the centerline to rest in her writhing lover’s navel. “There; I think I’ll take a break.”

“No!”

Carol laughed. “No? I guess that would be cruel, huh?”

Therese nodded rapidly.

“But not as cruel as this!” Carol grasped the ice and slipped it down to Therese’s hot clit. "One thousand one, one thousand two ..."

Therese screamed.

After what Therese thought three interminable seconds, Carol cast the diminished fragment aside and slipped down between Therese’s legs. Carol glanced up, and as her eyes met her lover's, she cooed, “Here, let me warm that back up for you.”

Carol took her mouth to Therese’s love button. As she suckled away the cold moisture, Therese cried in ecstasy. “Oh, yes! Thank you … that … yes … that. Carol! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”

*****

Therese lingered to stare at the movie poster. Carol turned and walked back to join her partner. They had caught the late showing; none of the rapidly departing viewers were within earshot. Carol laughed, “You’re moony-eyed over her.”

Embarrassed, Therese turned away, smiling.

Carol tugged her love back around to peer at Therese’s face. “Ah-hah! I knew it.”

“Well, you are, too. I thought your jaw was going to drop in the theater.”

They grinned at one another.

Therese glanced back at the poster and wondered aloud, “Barbara Stanwyck in _Lady of Burlesque_ … Geez, she’s gorgeous.”

“She is, but no more than you.”

“Oh … get outta here, C.”

“You get outta here. I heard Gates bugging you again at dinner about modeling.”

Redirecting, Therese commented, “You know this picture was released in the spring of 43. I can’t believe we haven’t caught it before now.”

Carol knew that the talk of modeling bothered her girl, so she moved on as well. “Two years! Where did it go, Therese?”

“I don’t know, darlin’ … somewhere.”

They resumed their walk to the car. A newspaper front page blew in front of them. The marquee’s bright light illuminated the headline. They both silently read, _Victory in Europe! May 8, 1945._

Therese took the wheel and drove them home. Carol broke the silence. “Honey, you know they will soon disband the OSS.”

“Oh, Carol, don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

Another silence ensued.

“Well, if we’re going to turn dreary, Con gave me a heads up about something the other day.”

“What?”

“He is so upset about it; his voice cracked.”

“Dear me.”

“It sounds like some jerks want to purge … well … people of our nature from government employ.”

“Shit! Don’t tell me; the FBI is at the top of the list?”

“That’s right.”

“Does he think somebody there knows what side your bread is buttered on?”

“No, but he and I well know what sneaky little sons-of-bitches they can be.”

“Do they realize how many dykes welded their aircraft carriers, delivered their bomber planes, and nursed are wounded?”

Therese wiped a tear from her cheek. Brokenly, she uttered, “They know. Goddammit, they know, Carol.”

“Sure, they do. But now that the boys will start coming home … now that the war is almost over … well, they can toss us all aside like the trash.”

Carol and Therese got home and immediately drew a hot bath. They immersed up to their chins in the sumptuous tub. The loving couple soaked and foot-fucked until their “happy place” returned.

*****

Carol asked Abby, “Okay, Dear, where do you want to go on the last night of y’all’s visit?”

Abby silently considered the question.

Penelope interjected, “Hey, what about that gal’s nightspot?”

Therese asked, “What gal?”

“You know, Therese; the joint you and your Phil went to when y’all were trying to catch the Commuter Killer.”

“My goodness, what a memory,” exclaimed Carol.

Therese objected, “We don’t go to places like that. It’s a good way to get scooped up in a raid. We’d lose our jobs with a Morals Charge on our record.

Carol was feeling salty. “Is that what you would like as well, Abby?”

Abby nodded, “Sure, but I don’t want y’all to be nervous about it … that wouldn’t be any fun.”

Carol reached over and grasped Therese’s hand under the restaurant table. “Therese? Honestly, it seems like we’ve lost our jobs anyway. We are packing up files at our offices, and with Japan’s surrender, your bosses will be turning their focuses inward. You said that you didn’t want to put Con in a tight spot.”

Therese stared down at her Brandy for a moment. She raised it to drain the last bit, then said, “Oh, what the hell … let’s go for it. But we need to take a cab; I want us all to have a really, really good time.”

Carol added, “That’s a swell idea, T. I’m going to call Phil and see if he’ll pick us up at the end of the night. It might be hard, and, uh, embarrassing to find another cab to take us home after midnight.”

Abby asked in bewilderment, “Where do you two find these fantastic men-friends?”

Therese chimed, “Just lucky, I guess.”

Gracie’s was hopping. Washington’s Daughters of Sappho were kicking up their heels. Abby and Penelope had hit up such spots on prior vacations in different cities, but Carol and Therese felt like babes in the woods. A round of boilermakers loosened them up, and they began to sway to the music. A female jazz quartet was shaking the rafters. Penelope and Abby were already dancing. They came over and scooped up their apprehensive friends.

Abby got Carol swinging, and Pen fired up Therese. The musicians transitioned into Count Basie’s "Splanky," and Carol was overwhelmed; she reached for her Therese, and the two began a modestly quick Lindy Hop. Abby and Penelope were stunned. They did not know that Carol and Therese danced the “Lindy” at various paces at least once a week in the privacy of their own living room.

Abby awed, “They’re good … real good!”

The four had the time of their lives. A bemused Phil came in at twelve-thirty. Carol had slipped the doorman a fin to keep an eye out for their “man-friend.” Phil tried to get them to settle down on the drive home, but they were toasted and wired. Somehow he got them to quiet down before they entered the Potomac.

Phil saw the wobbly crew to their residence and made sure they locked the door. He returned to his car with a smile. The gold-hearted Marine couldn’t wait to share the experience with Mrs./Dr. Janice McElroy. He hoped his wife might be able to tell him what a "slammer" is. He thought, _That Mobile girl, Penelope, is a nut._


	16. Click

Therese tapped her toe nervously as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know this woman,” she murmured. Makeup artists Fawn Gould and Rick Bonner had departed the dressing room a few seconds earlier.

Carol stepped behind Therese and massaged her shoulders. “You need to relax, sweetheart; it will all be fine. You will loosen up when they get started. And you look absolutely beautiful!”

Therese raised her eyes to meet Carol’s gaze. Carol winked at her. Therese smiled.

Gates knocked on the dressing room door. “Therese, may I come in?”

“Yes.”

He entered, moved to Carol’s side, and peered into the mirror. He gasped, “I knew it! What did I tell, you two?”

“Gates, what am I doing here? I’m … just … well, a—”

He winced as Therese stopped in midsentence, closed her eyes, and tilted her head down. Gates glanced at Carol questioningly. “Jitters?”

Carol nodded.

Gates knelt at Therese’s side and gently squeezed her left arm with both of his hands. “Darling, don’t be scared. This is some of the best work Fawn and Rick have ever done. You are stunning. No one will hurt you, Therese. They all know it is your first shoot.”

Therese took a deep breath then turned to look at him. He smiled at her.

There was another knock on the door. Gates asked, “Is that you, Gordo?”

“Yes.”

Never taking his eyes from Therese’s, Gates spoke over his shoulder, “Just a sec!” Then he gently stated, “Therese, I didn’t want you to meet Gordon Freelan for the first time out on the set. May I introduce the two of you in here?” He paused, then added, “I think it will help. You’ll feel better; he’s great.”

Carol patted Therese’s shoulder. Therese glanced up at her then back at Gates. “Sure, I would love to meet him.” She started to stand.

“No, no.” He clasped the fledgling model’s hand. “Keep your seat … Carol, will you let him in?”

Carol stepped to the door and extended her hand to the photographer. “Hello, Mr. Freelan, I’m Carol Aird.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Aird. Gates said Miss Belivet’s charming friend would be with us today. Gates! Charming is right. Where do you find these stunners?” He kissed Carol’s hand and said, “The pleasure is mine, Carol … I must call you Carol.”

They all chuckled at his seductive style. The professional broke the tension in one fell swoop. Gates stood and released Therese’s hand, making room for Gordo.

“Mm, and this must be Therese!” Gordo was six-three; he covered the distance to Therese in two strides. Glancing in the mirror and then into Therese’s eyes, Gordo gave her a tight-lipped smile while nodding. “Exquisite, my dear! Simply exquisite.”

Therese raised her hand to meet his. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Freelan.”

“Gordo, Therese, and that goes for you, too, Dear Carol.” He turned and scowled at Gates, “Sir, you must destroy those advance pics you sent me. They do not do her justice.”

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

“I am, and what a lucky artist to introduce the world to this wondrous visage.”

Gordo leaned down and hovered his chin just above Therese’s shoulder. He gestured to the mirror. They stared at one another. “Are you nervous, honey?”

“I guess … a little.”

“A little?” he grinned. Well, you should be. That means you care. I care, Therese. Heck, I’m nervous, too. We can do big things, my friend.”

Carol was thrilled by the photographer’s calming and delightful manner. She saw Therese laugh at the image in the mirror. It was a surreal moment, the well-known fashion photographer and his would-be model making silly faces at one another in the mirror.

Gordo stepped to the side and suggested, “Therese, stand up for me.”

Therese complied without hesitation. She liked this unique fellow. She trusted him. Therese stood and confidently faced Gordo. She shook and swooshed the black cocktail dress to fall neatly.

“Elegant! Claire McCardell, Gates?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Very good, Sir! Very good.”

“Mags picked out all of the dresses for today; I selected the slacks, tops, and blouses.”

“Where is, Mags?”

“She’ll be along.”

“Therese, Carol … you are fortunate to have these two as friends. The fashion gods were certainly smiling when they threw you four together.”

Gates asked, “Therese, are you ready?”

“I am!”

“Gordo?”

“Absolutely!”

“Okay, then … ‘the modern working girl transitions from wartime to peacetime with pluck and style.’ Let’s do this!”

It was a chilly October 1945 day. They started with some in-season outfits and transitioned through winter to spring as the day progressed. The shooting started at ten on a Wednesday morning. Around noon, Margaret Shannon arrived with Con. The newlyweds were all smiles, and Con still had the rest of the week off. They had honeymooned in Miami the week before.

Con and Margaret brought lunch. They cleared a worktable then surrounded cold brisket and sour doe bread with lettuce, pickles, mayonnaise, mustard, salt, and pepper. The hungry crew competed to make the “best” sandwich. Gates had some of his staff fill an ice chest with sodas at the start of the day; the drinks were delightfully cold.

After lunch, Margaret was soon accompanying Carol and Therese back and forth to the dressing room. At the same time, Con sat back and enjoyed watching his “Alabama foundling” transition into a new life. He did so with a sense of melancholy; he loved Therese like a little sister, and he would never truly replace her as a secretary. Therese had told him that she would only try this “modeling thing” for a while and then see what came along next for Carol and her. However, Con had spent enough time in Margaret’s world to know the real deal when he saw it. Understated, even shy, in public, Therese thrived in front of the lens; she was the essence of poise.

Returning from a midafternoon break, Gordo paused at the dressing room door to listen. He was impressed with Therese and Carol’s oneness as the young model changed and prepped for the next session. Aware of the women’s relationship, Gordo thought the pairing's strength could be an indomitable modeling team. He was thus emboldened to suggest later that Margaret and Gates inquire as to the possibility of Carol Aird taking a shoot in the future. Through the schoolmarm glasses, Gordo noted Carol’s posture, bearing, and bone structure. They made for a flexible package. This more mature woman could be decked out as a socialite, a mother, an executive, or the “perfect wife.” _Postwar America will eat them up._

After the final session, Margaret came into the dressing room. Carol and Therese gave her celebratory hugs. She grabbed their hands. “Ladies, that was a special day. Gordo is impressed. He can’t wait to get this stuff in the soup, and I’ve got the accompanying article half-written in my head. Thank you! Go home and put your feet up. I’ll be in touch either tomorrow or the next day.” Margaret hesitated before releasing their hands; then she glanced at Carol. “Carol … Gordo, Gates, and I want you to think about posing for some photographs.”

“Photographs? What for?” Therese gently pinched her arm. “Oh, you mean … no, I couldn’t. I’m not pretty enough for that. I couldn’t.”

Therese exclaimed, “You silly goose. ‘Not pretty enough,’ indeed! She’d be great, Mags. Wouldn’t she?”

“I believe you would, Carol.”

Carol stood in silence. Finally, she sighed. “Okay, I’ll think about it."

Therese and Carol said their goodbyes and walked to their Plymouth. Carol offered to drive. Exhausted by the tension and joy of the day, Therese quickly thanked her for taking the wheel.

Therese was chilled. She pulled her coat tighter around her neck and crossed her arms. “Carol, I don’t know what to think about this day. It was great, but I can’t believe it’s all real.”

Carol considered her response for a few seconds. “Well, all I want to think about is the cute fashion model I’m ravishing in bed tonight.”

“Ohh! Did I make you horny today?”

“You did.”

“Good. I, too, would like to be ravished by a gorgeous fashion model.”

“Don’t go there yet, Baby Girl.”

“Oh, I’m already there. If I can do this, you can.”

Carol blushed. Therese caught it in the late afternoon sunlight. She slipped her hand across the seat and slid her fingers under Carol’s leg. She wiggled them. Carol laughed, “You’ll make me have a wreck.”

Therese stopped wiggling her fingers, but she did not withdraw her hand.

Carol glanced at her.

Therese turned her eyes to the road ahead. She urged, “Hurry, Carol.”


	17. A Day at a Time

The November 1945 issue of _Doll_ flew off the shelves of newsstands and bookstores. Four pages of Therese Belivet’s charming “secretary” bedecked in the outfits of Claire McCardell, Bonnie Cashin, Tom Brigance, and Rudi Gernreich were the draw. Gates and Margaret wished they had ordered more copies; a second printing was out of the question as they were already deep into the December issue. They would gamble this time and order twice as many copies of this Christmas issue. A mitigating factor emboldened the publisher/editors; they couldn’t wait to spring Carol Aird on their readers.

Gordon Freelan had worked his magic as an elegantly re-quaffed Carol posed for a six-page spread. The team was tasked to present the “typical” December day of an upper-middle-class, urban housewife. The script was straightforward; Carol’s character ventures out at midmorning. She wears a Bonnie Cashin skirt, sweater, and coat to purchase a few last-minute Christmas gifts. Mrs. Americana lunches with a friend. Therese, portraying a younger housewife, is the friend. Therese sports herringbone trousers topped with a vest and blouse, all by Tom Brigance. The afternoon and evening themed sessions continue to charm. Therese appears again at the evening’s dinner party. Rich, earthy tones accented with eye-catching pleats, cuffs, and buttons compete with the two models' physical beauty. As in Therese’s November introduction, Margaret’s snappy prose makes for the complete package.

Carol and Therese knew things were changing on a gray November afternoon as they returned from a walk. A young man assertively approached. He called out, “Miss Belivet!”

“Yes,” Therese guardedly replied.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I’m Ken Johnson with the _Journal_. Do you have a minute for a couple of questions?”

Therese had been coached. “Hello, Mr. Johnson. I wish I could help you out, but I must refer you to Mr. Bogg at _Doll_. He insists on approving all interviews.

“C’mon, Therese, give a guy a break. Surely, he wouldn’t—”

Carol firmly but politely interjected, “I think Mr. Bogg would mind, Ken.”

The Potomac’s imposing doorman stepped out, saying, “Hello, Miss Belivet, Miss Aird; did you ladies enjoy your walk?”

“Yes, Mr. Champion, we did,” answered Carol while maintaining her gaze on Ken.

Mr. Champion held the door open with one arm while extending his other in a welcoming gesture. He gave the reporter a stern glance. “Have a good day, sir.”

Ken nodded and scurried away disappointedly.

The couple gave thankful hugs to Mr. Champion then hurried for the elevator. The Potomac’s manager intercepted them. “Miss Belivet? Would you be so kind as to sign my copy of _Doll_?”

“Of course, Mrs. Yielding. The cover?”

“Yes, right there.” She pointed to a print-free spot to the right of Therese’s image and handed Therese a pen.”

Carol smiled proudly as her girl added a short message and signature to the cover.

Mrs. Yielding studied the result. “Oh, I love it. Thank you!”

“Certainly,” Therese nodded while avoiding the temptation to tell Mrs. Yielding she would need to gather two signatures in a couple of weeks. But, they were contracted to secrecy.

In the elevator, Therese wondered aloud, “Carol, can you imagine what this might be like after the Christmas issue hits?”

The inherently shy Alabama schoolteacher shook her head in silence.

Therese stepped to Carol and kissed her. The kiss lingered. After the smooch, Therese said, “Carol, let’s try to enjoy this. We can really have some fun.”

Carol started to kiss Therese back, but the floor bell dinged. As the elevator doors opened, the prim and proper Mrs. Bregance and her poodle, Ralph, greeted them. Therese pressed the door-open button anticipating a short conversation. Carol asked, “How are you, dear neighbors?”

The widow loved that Carol had included Ralph in the greeting. “We are capital, Miss Aird, and how are the two of you doing?”

“We are fine.” Carol noted Ralph’s hand-knitted sweater, “I’m glad you and Ralph are dressed warmly; it’s nippy out there.”

“Well, Ralph must have his constitution, so off we go.”

The parties swapped sides of the elevator entrance and bid each other goodbye.

Carol and Therese hung their hats, scarves, and jackets then went to work on spaghetti and meatballs. After they each had a quick glass of water, Therese opened a bottle of red to breathe. Carol had prepared the meatballs that morning before they left for _Doll_. She pulled the trays from the refrigerator then slipped them in the oven to bake. Therese filled a pot with water and placed it on a burner. She would wait to start the boil until the meat was further along. Carol started work on a salad; she thanked the heavens for Florida and the war’s end. Therese opened the box of spaghetti and removed the appropriate amount. They chatted as they worked. “Did that headache go away, C?”

“Yes, a BC powder poured in a Coke did the trick.”

Therese chuckled, “Your magic potion.”

“That’s right.”

After a lull, Therese asked, “Carol, do you ever hate the way we can’t make long term plans.”

“No, darling. Perhaps it’s because I’m older, but I have found long-range planning fruitless. I’ve always had a set of behavioral practices that arm me for trouble, but I take life a day at a time. It has enabled me to react to the unexpected twists and turns.”

“Was I a monkey wrench?”

“A delightful monkey wrench, you sweet angel.”

“A stressful one, though.”

“Hey, where’s this coming from? We just survived the largest conflagration in history.”

“I was just thinking … well, does our unconventional relationship prevent us from planning a quasi-normal life together?”

Carol quit chopping scallions and turned to Therese. “In all honesty, honey, it does. You know that. Is that going to make you miserable?”

“Well, not ‘miserable,’ but it is a point of concern for me.”

“Therese, you’re young. I know, given your challenging upbringing, you yearn for security and stability. I’m afraid the best we can do is work hard, save, and be very, very careful.”

Therese tossed a dishtowel to Carol and stepped to embrace her. Carol hugged her love with her forearms then transitioned to her hands after wiping them. She expected the emotional Therese to cry, but such was not the case. Therese murmured, “It’s unfair.”

“I know, Darling, but most of the world consider our sexual relationship an abomination. I just have to say, ‘Fuck ’em’ and the horse they rode in on.’ I want you. I want you body and soul. The fulfillment of that desire is all that will bring me true happiness. I’m willing to live in the moment to have you. And that means for the rest of my life.”

“Carol, that was beautiful. I’ll never forget the day you knocked on my door. I loved you from the moment you said, ‘Hello, I’m Carol Aird, your next-door neighbor.’”

“And I loved you the moment you chimed, ‘It’s nice to meet you, Miss Aird; my name is Therese Belivet.’” Carol squeezed Therese hard, then she gushed, “Oh, my! How could I not fall for that spark of intelligence, those green eyes, and the cutest face in the entire world?”

“So, a day at a time?”

“It’s what we’ve got unless society changes.”

“And that will be—”

“When Hell freezes over.”

Therese laughed. Carol joined her.

Carol leaned back slightly and gazed into Therese’s eyes. Satisfied with what she found, Carol asked, “Et un verre de vin?”

“Superbe!”

Carol got down two glasses, and Therese poured.

Carol lifted her glass and toasted, “To our love!”

“To our love.”

They sipped, and both wriggled with joy as the lovely warmth journeyed to their tummies.

Their intercom buzzed. Therese excitedly speculated, “I bet that’s them. I’ll get it.”

She darted to the intercom. “Yes, Mr. Champion?”

“Your guests are on the way up, Miss Belivet.”

“Thanks, Mr. Champion.”

“Enjoy your evening, Ma’am.”

“You, too, Sir.”

Therese was impatient. She opened the door and walked to the elevator. When it opened, she was shocked to find that all four guests had arrived simultaneously. “Dang! The whole bunch in one box!”

Janice grinned, “We literally parked and stepped out at the same moment.”

“Oh, Janice, I’ve missed you.”

“And I, too, you, dear T.”

After hugging Janice, Therese lightly punched the accompanying Marine in the chest. Phil growled, “Come here, featherweight, and give me a hug.”

“Phil, you look great. I see Janice is keeping you in shape.”

“Yep, she’s a tough DI.”

Con grabbed Therese and bear-hugged her. “Therese! Mags said the shoot was fantastic. Congratulations!”

As soon as the Special Agent released his former “Girl Friday,” Margaret spontaneously embraced Therese. “I know it’s only been a couple of hours since work, but this dinner invitation is really grand.”

“Love ya’, Mags.”

They walked towards Carol, who now stood outside the apartment door. The hugs and jibes continued as they filed into the dwelling.

Margaret handed Carol two fresh-from-the-bakery loaves of Italian bread, as Phil presented Therese with two bottles of Barbera. He noted, “Straight from Janice’s cellar, Rese.”

“Our cellar, Phil McElroy.”

Phil reached for and squeezed his wife’s hand.

Carol and Therese’s hearts glowed at the sweet exchange.

Janice asked, “Mags, where’s Gates?”

“Oh, after we sent the December issue to press today, he headed for New York.”

“Not Vermont?”

“No, Jon has a client in _Faust,_ and he wanted Gates to go see it with him tomorrow night.”

“Good luck with that; I’ve read unfavorable reviews.”

Janice shrugged and nodded.

Therese spoke up, “Hey, we have a bottle going. It’s delish. Who wants to help us finish it?”

The four guests gladly accepted. Carol returned to her salad while Con helped Therese with glasses and pouring. Janice chuckled while watching Con and Therese bounce through their task. Janice teased, “Mags, were you jealous when you met Therese? I mean such a “doll” for your fella’s secretary.” The others laughed, but Therese blushed in embarrassment.

Margaret glared at Janice, “No, you meanie. Remember? It was my first night at that castle of yours. Gates had already … well, ‘brought me on board’ before Therese and Carol came in to meet me. But, I must say, I did double-takes on both of these two.” She gestured towards her hosts.

Janice slipped beside Margaret and put her arm around her. Margaret played along and leaned her head close to Janice’s. The two fired glances at their hosts. Carol put her hands on her hips and gave the imps a stern look. Therese covered her eyes. Janice coyly murmured, “Mags, which one would you hit on?”

Margaret snickered, “I’d have to flip a coin.”

Carol pointed her paring knife but was at a loss for repartee. Therese had recovered, “She mirrored Janice’s move and was quickly at Carol’s side, saying, “I don’t know, C. I’ve got a thing for older women, so I’ll take which either of these broads you don’t want.”

Phil and Con howled at the retort.

Dinner was great. They ate, drank, and chatted in absolute joy. Margaret had made a bib out of her napkin. The others teased her at first, then saw the wisdom in the move and did the same.

After the dishes were done, they moved to the living room. They were one seat short, but Therese thoughtfully nestled on the floor between Carol and Margaret.

At one point, Con inquired of Janice and Phil, “What are you two working at these days?”

Phil and Janice exchanged glances, then Janice replied, “Let’s just say that we’re keeping busy.”

Con nodded, “I bet you are.” He would never reveal such knowledge, but he had been briefed on the pending creation of the Central Intelligence Agency.

After a lull in the conversations, Margaret took Therese and Carol’s hands. With a serious tone, Margaret said, “I think this is a good time to spring something on this group.” Therese shifted to face her. Margaret smiled at her young model. “If this Christmas issue performs the way we hope, it will kick Gates and me off the fence.”

Therese asked, “What?”

“We’ll simply have to move to New York.”

“Everything?” asked Carol.

“Yes, Carol … lock, stock, and barrel.”

Therese shot a worried glance at Carol.

Margaret and Gates had a plan. “Now, look, you two. We have an option on the floor below our New York office.”

Janice exclaimed, “The entire floor?”

“That’s right; the _Times_ is consolidating and wants to sell the redundant space. It will need some work, but we have a smashing architect’s plan.”

Therese sheepishly murmured, “Wow.” Carol patted her shoulder.

“Therese, we want to take you and Carol with us. Jon and some partners have just finished remodeling a massive apartment complex in Manhattan. They’ve named it Empire City Towers. He is holding three for us. You and Carol can take one, Gates, another, then Con and I will move into the last one.”

Therese asked, “Con?”

Con quickly shared, “The New York field office is desperately short at the moment. There is an opening for the asking, and it would be great to get out of the Bureau’s D.C. fishbowl?”

Margaret said, “There’s time for you to think about it, at least a couple or three weeks. And let me add that Gates, and I have big plans for Carol Aird and Therese Belivet. Carol, I need help with the articles. Con and Janice have been very complimentary of your writing, and I understand that Therese has been an integral part of that at times. So, you have options other than those in front of the camera. With our coaching, we think you can bring a fresh contribution to the magazine. You know, we can shake the industry up.”

Carol and Therese had moved from insecure shock to tingling anticipation. Carol leaned down and whispered in Therese’s ear, “A day at a time.”

Therese nodded.

Everyone turned when the ever-stoic Janice began sobbing. Phil moved from his chair to kneel by Janice with his arm around her shoulders.”

Therese scooted to Janice’s knee and looked up consolingly in her friend’s eyes.

Janice took Phil’s handkerchief and wiped her tears. “You’ll all be leaving us. It sounds very exciting for ‘y’all,’ but I’ll miss the Hell out of you.”

Carol joined Therese at Janice’s other knee, while Con and Margaret moved behind Janice and patted her shoulders. Con softly said, “Janice if it happens, we can still visit frequently. It’s not that far.”

Janice glanced around at all of them. Overwhelmed with the demonstration of love, she began to cry again. “Frequently? We’ll all get busy and hardly ever see each other.”

The other’s looked questioningly at Phil. He shrugged, “Like I always said, she’s a big softy at heart. Hell, y’all, she really loves you guys.”


	18. Have a Safe Trip, Therese

The Army began to vacate Atlantic City even before the war ended. Jitka and Ruby weathered the decline in retail traffic for a few months. Ruby had added Jitka to her deed a couple of years after Mr. Robichek passed away. With Therese and Carol’s move to New York in January of 1946, Ruby and Jitka felt the time was right to accept a lucrative offer for their store. With the proceeds, they purchased a Manhattan brownstone two blocks from the Empire City Towers. Therese and Carol were thrilled. The whole gang helped Ruby and Jitka move.

Gates was quite taken by the Atlantic City couple. He urged them to open a snack shop on the ground floor of _Doll’s_ office building. The building housed a dozen businesses and was in dire need of such a resource. RJ’s opened in February. Carol suggested the women engage student’s from the various Manhattan institutions of higher learning to serve as runners. By the end of the month, the young men and women were chasing tips throughout the surrounding buildings each weekday from 9:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m.; the food delivery service was well received. Coffee breaks were as profitable as lunches.

As predicted, the Christmas issue of _Doll_ was a hit. Besides their appearances in _Doll_ , Carol and Therese were the first two hires of The Bogg Agency. Gates and Margaret finally had their own modeling agency.

Carol was a scary-quick learn. She was busy penning her first article in late February; thus, she could not accompany Therese for a West Coast shoot. The shoot was scheduled for Monday, the 26th. Therese flew out early on Friday, the 25th. Dannie and Fore McElroy now lived and worked in Stanford, California. Therese had called them midweek; they insisted on picking her up Friday night and hosting her weekend.

Dannie took advantage of the GI Bill to study engineering at Stanford, while Fore worked as a proofreader at a publishing company. They were renting a smart two-bedroom house. Therese was to sleep in what would soon be converted into a nursery. Therese complemented Fore on her cute little bump as they walked from the air terminal.

Fore asked if Therese had eaten.

“Nothing since lunch; I had bad timing on the last leg.”

Fore suggested, “It’s late, but we haven’t had supper either. We know of a perfect burger joint not far from here.”

“I’d love a burger.”

Dannie smiled, “Then burgers it is.”

At the diner, they ordered, then Dannie went to select something from the jukebox. Upon returning, he asked, “How are Carol, Janice, and that useless brother of mine doing?”

“They are fine. As you know, Phil and Janice came up last weekend; we had a blast.”

Fore asked, “Phil wrote us a while back about your mother moving to New York. That’s so exciting, Therese. You must be so happy.”

“I am. You’ll have to meet her and her friend, Ruby, at some point.”

The burgers were big, greasy, and delicious. Therese thought it was the best onions she’d tasted in a while. “This is almost like Harry’s burgers back in Mobile.”

The couple laughed and nodded. Dannie exclaimed, “We thought the same thing the first time we tried them.”

Therese slept well and late. Dannie and Fore let her sleep in. They had brunch after Therese awoke; Fore made pancakes.

It was chilly, so they dressed warmly for a walk around Stanford. Dannie proudly showed Therese the buildings where he attended classes.

They drove into San Francisco that night for dinner at a Greek restaurant. The prices were very reasonable. Therese thought the Moussaka was exemplary.

Therese attended church on Sunday morning with Dannie and Fore. They were members of a small Methodist church within walking distance of their house. Therese hadn’t been in a church since Mags and Con’s wedding. She and Carol shared a coolness for organized religion, but the members were nice, and the young minister delivered a sound message.

Therese and Fore double-teamed baked chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, and rolls for Sunday dinner. Dannie sent them to put their feet up while he did the dishes. They played cards and talked all afternoon. That evening the-parents-to-be drove Therese back into the city. She bid them good-bye after they walked her into the lobby of the Sir Francis Drake Hotel.

Therese had made a reservation because she knew the lodging from their educational tour. The rooms were as lovely and comfortable as she remembered, but the bed was not the same without Carol snuggled in her arms.

*****

On Monday morning, Therese took a cab to the advertising agency and was impressed to find a young woman assigned to her for the day, Marti McAnally. The perky blonde escorted her to makeup, wardrobe, and the studios. The crew had sandwiches delivered for lunch. In the afternoon, the makeup girl tweaked Therese for daylight. Marti had drawn a company car; she drove her to the project’s outdoor location.

After the last session, Marti asked Therese if she’d like to have dinner together. “The company will pick up the tab for us.”

Therese accepted. The local gal knew of a good steak place. They took a cab. There was a wait, so they had drinks at the restaurant’s bar. Therese was a bit concerned after Marti finished her second Old Fashioned before Therese had finished her first. The alcohol moved the girl to melancholy. Therese asked, “What’s wrong, honey?”

“What else?”

“A man?”

“Yes, I stayed faithful to my fiancé all through the last year of the war. Then he comes home, and a month later, I catch him cheating on me with some chick at his new job.”

“I’m sorry, Marti. I say, fuck him. Don’t dwell on the past. Move on.”

Marti was shocked for a second at the angelic brunette’s frankness. She stared at Therese for a moment, then cackled.

They were called for their table and enjoyed T-bones, baked potatoes, and salads with a California red.

After Marti signed the check, she asked, “Miss Belivet, you’re such a lift for me tonight. Do you mind if we go to a nightspot near here? They have dancing. I’d love to dance.”

Therese hesitated, then relented and agreed. The club was a nice one. There was a jazz ensemble, and they were good. Therese wished Carol could hear them. A smooth fellow in a tailored suit was soon plying Marti with dances and more drinks. Therese agreed to take a spin with a nice looking gent that turned out to be a good dancer and decent conversationalist. She was lost in the music and good company for longer than she realized. Upon returning to her table, Marti was not there or visible on the dance floor.

Therese sat for a moment, then asked for a check and paid it. She grabbed both of their handbags and began to subtly search for Marti. Her dance companion from earlier stepped to Therese’s side and said, “My buddy said he saw your little friend and that dude step to the back while we were dancing.”

“What’s back there?”

“Restrooms, a phone, and a card room.”

“Thanks,” Therese said sincerely as she headed to the rear of the club. She found the restrooms first and checked the ladies' room to no avail. The phone nook was empty as well. Therese figured a door at the end of the hall must be the card room.

Therese paused at the door and listened. It was difficult to hear much of anything, as the band was quite loud. She pressed her ear to the door and listened intently. She heard Marti’s voice say, “No!”

Therese burst through to find the cad trying to press Marti down onto the card table. He had her skirt in his hand, and the girl was dizzily struggling to fight him off.

“Hey, shithead! Let her go!”

He turned and scowled, “Get out of here bitch! I’m going to teach this tease a lesson.”

Therese stepped closer, dropping the handbags as she shifted into a fighting stance.

The letch shoved Marti away, releasing her. He turned and stepped towards Therese. He was prepared to fend off a crotch kick but not the right and left jabs Therese delivered to his mouth. Then she kicked him in the knee. He slumped to the ground. He was a large muscular fellow; Therese saw that he was recovering quickly.

“Marti, come on!” Therese grabbed Marti’s hand and pulled her along, snatching their bags from the floor on the way out. Therese glanced backward anxiously as she led Marti to the coat check station. The creep emerged from the back, but Therese’s dance partner and his friend blocked Marti’s assailant. Therese waved thankfully to her gentleman as she and Marti exited into the cold night air. They walked quickly for a couple of blocks before hailing a cab.

Therese asked Marti for her address and had the cabby take them there. Therese asked the driver to wait while she escorted Marti to her bungalow’s door. Marti’s roommate answered the door as Therese fumbled with the keys. The roommate asked, “Marti, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Therese said, “Hi, I’m Therese.”

“Hi, Therese. I’m Gertie. What the heck? She never drinks.”

“Well, she did tonight … poor thing.”

“Thank you for seeing her home. Wait a minute … you’re Therese Belivet from _Doll_!”

“I am.”

“Oh, no. She was supposed to take care of you, not the other way around.”

“I know, sweetie, but don’t worry. This stays with us. She’ll be fine, but that fiancé must have done a number on her psyche. She’s a vulnerable gal.”

“Is that blood on your hands?”

Therese glanced at her abraded knuckles. She had not realized until that point how bad they hurt.

“I’m a nurse. Can I dress them for you?”

Unhesitatingly, Therese answered, “No. I have a cab waiting.”

“Then, wait a sec.” The roommate darted to her purse and returned with a brown cardboard package. “It’s an Army surplus field dressing packet. Take it. I have several.”

“Thank you. Look, Gertie, we have a late call tomorrow. Just tell her to call me around nine.”

“I will, Miss Belivet.”

“Okay. Now take care of her.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

Therese returned to the cab. The driver asked, “Where to, Ma’am?”

“The Drake Hotel, please.”

“Sure thing.”

They wound through the San Francisco streets. Therese checked her watch. It was after eleven. She sighed; Therese had intended to call Carol.

“Lady, that was nice what you did for your friend.”

“What? She considered a second. “Oh, thank you. Haven’t we all been there?”

“I guess so.” He passed her a clean and folded handkerchief.

Therese paused, then glanced at the bloody knuckles. Illuminated by the waxing and waning streetlights, they were indeed a bit grisly. She took the cloth.

“Tear it in half, lady, and wrap one half around each hand. It’ll get you through the lobby without much notice.”

“Thanks, again—” Therese squinted at the driver’s nameplate “—Mr. Carvotti.”

“My pleasure, Miss.” After a moment and a couple of glances watching Therese rip the cloth and tend to her hands, he asked, “You sure look familiar. Are you in the movies?”

She felt comfortable with the pleasant fellow. “Actually, I’m a fashion model.”

“A model?”

“Yes, but I doubt if you’ve seen my photographs. I’ve appeared in magazines like _Doll_.”

“That’s it! My wife loves that magazine.” He glanced back in the rearview mirror a couple of times.

Therese grinned then laughed at his glances.

“Yeah … you were on the cover back before Christmas. Bel … Bele—”

“Belivet … Therese Belivet.”

“That’s it! Holy cow! My wife won’t believe it.”

Therese reached in her bag; she always carried a couple of press photos for jobs. She couldn’t find her pen. “Mr. Carvotti, do you have a pen?”

“Sure.” He pulled one from his sun visor and passed it to her.

“What’s your wife’s name?”

“Uh, Rebecca … Becky Carvotti … Lenny and Becky, that’s what they call us.”

Therese wrote for a few seconds, then passed the photo and pen back to Lenny.

He stopped at a red light then angled the photo to read in the scarlet glow. “To Lenny and Becky, Best of luck — in life and love. Therese Belivet.” He carefully slipped the photo in an envelope clipped to the sun visor, and then he dabbed the tip of his finger at his eye. Therese smiled. The light changed, and Lenny eased off on the clutch and depressed the accelerator. They were soon at the hotel.

Therese paid the fare, including a generous tip.

“That’s too much, Miss Belivet.”

“No, you’ll have to replace this handkerchief.”

“He laughed. Thanks for the photo.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Take care of those hands.”

“I will, goodnight, Lenny Carvotti.”

“Goodnight, Miss Belivet.”

Therese took a quick shower, then opened Gertie’s package of gauze and cream. She carefully dressed her wounds. She grimaced, imagining how they might appear at tomorrow’s shoots. A wave of relief came over her when Therese recalled that gloves accessorized all of the next day’s outfits.

Therese donned her pajamas and sat cross-legged on the bed to call Carol.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Carol.”

Therese and Carol stayed in character for phone calls, just as in public. They had no way of knowing if an eavesdropping operator might be on the line.

“Hey, T. How are you?”

“I'm fine. I'm sorry for waking you at three in the morning. I just got in a little while ago. I’ll tell ya about it all when I get home on Wednesday.”

“Understood. You never have to apologize for calling me whatever the hour.”

Therese said, “It was a long day.” That was code for, _I miss you, Carol_.

Carol replied, “It was a long day here, as well.” _I miss you, Therese._

Therese smiled. “How are the puppies?” That translated to, _I love you._

“The puppies are great, and they miss you.” _I love you and wish I were making love to you._

The couple chatted about their working day and what was happening the next day.

Therese sighed, “Well, Carol, I better sign off and get to bed.”

“Yes, you should.”

Therese said, “Tell SK and WH I said hi.” _Soft kisses and warm hugs, my love._

“I will; they’ve asked about you.” _Soft kisses and warm hugs, darling._

“Goodnight, C.”

“Goodnight, T.”

*****

Marti picked up Therese in the company vehicle at noon. They drove to the studio, and Therese hurried to makeup. Therese was styled quickly; the hair and makeup artists were exceptional. Alone and ready in the dressing room, Marti joined her. “Therese, Mr. Vardeman will be ready shortly; he has some lighting issues.”

“No problem.”

Marti perched down on a nearby stool. She anxiously tapped her leg with her finger. “Therese?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“Do you remember everything?”

“That stuff in the back room is a little fuzzy, but yes, I think I remember all of it.”

“Good. Girl, don’t ever put yourself in that vulnerable a situation again.”

“Where in the hell did you learn to punch like that?”

“It’s a long story.” Therese redirected, “I must apologize as well.”

“You? Why?”

“I told you to “move on” with little consideration as to how you might take that advice. And I shouldn’t have let your get that drunk.”

Marti stood and leaned down to give Therese a very careful hug; she did not want to muss Therese’s hair or makeup, “You were there for me, Therese, when I needed help the most. I promise you; I’ll avoid such situations from now on.”

Therese gently patted her back.

Marti touched the back of Therese’s hand. “But, your hands!”

Therese smiled and reached for the scene’s required white gloves. She slipped them on. “There! All gone.”

Marti laughed.

The sessions went smoothly. Therese’s flight home was scheduled for 06:50 the next morning, so she wanted to get to bed early. After work, Marti drove Therese to the Drake and dropped her off. Therese ordered room service, bathed, and dressed for bed. The fish and potatoes were tasty, accompanied by a glass of white. A small piece of chocolate cake and a cup of coffee topped it off.

Therese placed the tray in the hall, then hopped on the bed to call Carol. They chatted, exchanged their messages of love, and closed.

“Have a safe trip, Therese.”

“See you at Floyd Bennett Field tomorrow night, Carol.”

“For sure. Night, night.”

“Sweet dreams.”

*****

Walking into the airport, Therese had a spring in her step; she was wearing her latest extravagance, a tailored blue woolen suit. She quickly found her flight and boarded. The Douglas DC-6 seemed plush compared to the wartime transports of her and Carol’s various missions. The cabin was not full, and Therese was thrilled when a stewardess whispered, “Miss Belivet, I’m Angie. I switched your assignment so you can have a window seat just forward of the wing with an empty aisle seat to your right.”

They lifted off from San Francisco Airport just after seven. Clearing the Sierra Nevada range, the copilot stepped back and addressed the 37 passengers. “Folks, wasn’t that a spectacular view of the Sierras? Well, you’re in for an even grander one of the Rockies as we pass over Idaho in an hour or so. I’m your co-pilot, Jim Property. Your pilot is Captain Archie Carmichael. I hope you had breakfast before takeoff, but if not, we’ll be serving an early lunch. We should be keeping our mid-afternoon arrival time in Chicago. Of course, that will be around one o'clock there. You can be glad of one thing; we beat that front moving in from the northwest. It is supposed to dump lots of rain in the Bay area and tons of snow from the Sierras east. It will follow us across most of the country, but we’re traveling a lot faster.” The passengers laughed. “We should enjoy clear skies and spectacular scenery.”

The handsome young aviator mingled among the passengers. Therese noticed the lack of a wedding band as Jim approached her row. Therese was used to being hit on. She had a magazine full of tactics for receiving and fending off advances. She smiled at the pilot. He chimed, “Ah, our celebrity for the day. Hello, Miss Belivet; thank you for flying with us. As he offered his hand, Therese shook it firmly. “Jim, Property at your service, Ma’am.” He noticed the bandaged knuckles. “Battle scars?”

She sheepishly shrugged.

“Is everything to your liking?”

“Yes, Sir. It’s a lovely plane.”

“First time on a DC-6?”

“Yes, but I flew in DC-4s, C-54s, and a Connie during the war. They were all military aircraft, so they weren't as … well … comfortable.”

He chuckled, “Were you in the service?”

“The Department of Education and later the FBI.”

“Really? Well, I certainly think you’ve found your true calling now. My girlfriend always shows me your pictures in _Doll_.”

“Thank you, Sir. Most of the credit should go to the makeup artists, hairdressers, and photographers.”

Therese glowed in the indirect sunlight from the windows; she enthralled Jim and the surrounding passengers. Jim smiled, “Your modesty is almost as charming as your beauty, Miss Belivet, but from this view, I’d say your technicians have an easy job making exquisite presentations when you are the subject.” Therese blushed as laughter surrounded her. The flyer moved on much to Therese’s relief.

Despite the clear skies, frequent high winds rocked the aircraft. They were asked to keep their seat belts on. Therese had only grabbed a cup of coffee at the terminal. She wished the “early lunch” was a late breakfast.

When the Rocky Mountains began to sprawl below, Therese thought she smelled smoke. She called to the stewardess, “Angie, I smell smoke.”

A businessman across from her agreed, “Me, too!”

Angie paused and sniffed the air. “Excuse me; I’ll be right back.” She hurried towards the cockpit.

“Jim was back with Angie in a flash.”

He strode the length of the cabin, tersely comforting passengers as he rushed by them.

He picked up a handset in the back and mumbled to the captain.

Therese bit her bottom lip when the first smoke appeared at her feet. It rose slowly and dissipated into a haze as it climbed to the top of the cabin.

The passengers’ voices became elevated. An older woman in front of Therese screamed.

Jim firmly told everyone to remain calm, stay in their seats, and secure their seat belts. Therese tightened the belt around her 22-inch waist. She felt utterly helpless. The little survivor was a stranger to such an emotion.

The navigator met Jim on his way back to the cockpit. Therese only caught the words “fire” and “baggage compartment.”

Jim and the navigator emerged from the front. Jim barked, “Listen up, everyone. We have a fire in the baggage compartment. We’re going to try to put it out. I want you to prepare for a notable change in altitude. Captain Carmichael is going to start a rapid descent. We are at 18,000 feet. He is taking us down to 9,000.”

Screams and howls ensued as they angled steeply towards the snowy mountains. Seconds seemed like minutes as Therese dug her fingertips into the upholstery.

They performed some violent maneuvers. Therese was disoriented. She could not tell where the “firefighters” had gone. Therese saw Angie tumble by her from aft to forward. Angie thrashed at the seat in front of Therese. Therese reached for Angie's hand, but another jolt sent the flight attendant out of reach. G-force slammed Therese back into her seat. She screamed. Therese sideglanced out the window. The mountain peaks were much closer now. She felt like she could reach out and touch them.

The plane leveled out, but thick, acrid smoke now filled the cabin. Bloodied and blackened, Jim appeared. He had an ax. He grabbed Therese’s arm and pulled her down on the empty seat. “Stay down!” he screamed.

Therese heard the sound of the ax smashing her window. Several blows resulted in a frigid blast of air striking her like a wall of ice. She felt Jim move away. A few seconds later, she heard him attacking another window. Therese did not realize that she was suffocating until the clean air reached her lungs. She arose and saw Jim smash yet another window on the other side of the cabin. For a surreal moment, she was so proud of him. Horror struck her as a steep left bank lifted Jim like a marionette and tossed him back to her side of the cabin. The same forces slammed her into the frame of her window. She stared at the jagged glass; it was inches from her face.

Once again, the plane was diving. Something large and heavy struck the back of her head. It was Jim. He rolled over the heads of the passengers until he struck the forward bulkhead. His ax, now free, glanced off the head of a tall fellow in the first row before it danced along towards the cockpit.

Therese saw Angie stand. The young woman was yelling instructions at the top of her lungs, but Therese could barely hear Angie above the engines' roar and the rush of incoming air. Therese saw others putting their heads between their knees. She did the same. For Therese, Angie’s only decipherable words were “crash landing.”

Once, Therese rode a Coney Island roller coaster with Carol. She felt like she was in a giant version of such a ride at this moment. She turned her head enough to glance out the windows across the aisle. Monstrous snowy mountains now towered above them.

Therese felt the first impact. It was like that of a sled popping over a bump along its run. They were airborne again for a few seconds. The next strike was harder and violent. Shattering glass, breaking steel, and tearing aluminum made her deaf. Daylight filled Therese’s section of the cabin after one of the Pratt & Whitney “Double Wasp” radial engines spun its Hamilton Standard propeller across the top of the plane. Like a giant can opener, it sliced off thirty feet of the overhead. Seconds later, the aircraft lurched to a halt.

The fact that Therese never lost consciousness enabled her to assess the dire situation. The brave Jim and his buddy must have never extinguished the fire in the baggage compartment. Therese saw the flames leaping from both wings. She unlatched her buckle and stumbled from her seat. In disbelief, she saw that the aircraft’s tail section was missing. She looked around at her fellow passengers. She could not see the hand in front of her face because of the black smoke. There were no voices, no screams, and no cries. The fire was enveloping the front of the plane. She ran aft and dove through a ten-foot gash in the fuselage. A snowbank caught her like a cold feather bed. She was now buried in the deep snow.

Therese struggled out of the drift like it was quicksand. As she emerged, the heat from the raging DC-6 enveloped her. She crawled away from it, but every few feet, she would fall back through the snow and have to fight her way to the surface again. A sharp pain shot through her forehead. She saw stars and smelled blood.

Therese peered in front of her. She had struck her head on a rocky barrier. Therese climbed on top of the rocks, gained her footing, and ran. Seconds later, the DC-6’s port fuel tanks exploded; the starboard tanks blew a couple of seconds later. The concussions propelled Therese forward. She landed belly down on another field of snow and slid several feet before again sinking into its depths. She came to rest on her side; the rocky surface below the snow stopped her descent. Therese looked up and saw the glow of the burning aviation fuel spread over her like a canopy.

Therese lay still and held her breath for as long as she could. She managed to work her hand to her face and cleared some snow creating an airspace around her mouth and nose. She forced herself to breathe slowly. The glow receded after a few minutes. After once again clawing her way free of snow, Therese emerged to find in a steamy swamp. She found footing on another rocky slab and cautiously shuffled along this footing until she reached another field of snow. She had to rub her eyes to make sure they were not deceiving her. The plane's tail section was resting on its side like a beached whale with its starboard horizontal stabilizer rising like a dorsal fin. The vertical stabilizer was flat on the snowy surface. A football field behind the tail section, Therese spotted the port horizontal stabilizer. She sank to her knees. Wringing wet and shivering, she stared numbly at the only relatively intact part of her airliner. Then she hesitantly glanced back at the burning mass. She feared seeing a personage stumble from the inferno and loom towards her like a flaming golem.

“Not even a scream,” Therese murmured.


	19. Reported Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/baxceFh)  
>  A cutaway model of the DC-6 airliner.

Carol popped out of bed on Wednesday morning, well before her alarm clock sounded. She stood, stretched out her arms, and rolled her neck in a full circle. The sun shining through the bedroom window turned her smile into a grin. She sang, “Therese is coming home tonight? Therese is coming home tonight!”

Carol hurried to the bathroom. She showered, shaved her legs, trimmed her cute blonde triangle, and slipped on her undies. Carol donned her robe. She paused, staring at Therese’s robe. Traveling light, Therese had left the luxurious garment. The robes always hung side by side on the back of their bathroom door. Carol could not resist the temptation; she took two handfuls of her lover’s robe and pulled them to her face. She inhaled the sweet essence and moaned lustily.

Carol made coffee and boiled a 3-minute egg. At their kitchen bar, she tapped the shell open and savored the first spoonful. Carol wriggled on the stool. She sipped her coffee, then sighed, “Ah, perfect.” She glanced about the Manhattan apartment. Their Potomac furniture worked nicely with their new dig’s fresh paint, carpets, and wallpaper. They actually had three bedrooms this time. One was notably smaller than the other two; they had moved commercial-grade clothes racks into the small room. With their latest profession, it had proved efficacious.

Carol dressed in black slacks and a tan sweater. She skipped makeup and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. Carol wrapped a scarf around her hair and slipped on her favorite Ray-Bans. The folks at work would take care of her before her brief shoot at ten. She put on socks and flats before grabbing her briefcase and heading to the lobby.

Having called down earlier, the doorman had a cab waiting for her. Once in the cab, she glanced in her briefcase and smiled at the contents. It was the final draft of Carol’s first article for _Doll_. She had proofed it one last time yesterday evening. Carol would hand it off to Margaret as soon as she arrived at the office.

She chuckled with excitement when thinking about the morning’s photo session. She had seen the two Norman Norell business outfits when they arrived on Monday; they were pure class. The cabby glanced in the rearview mirror upon hearing his giddy fare. Carol smiled, “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

Her state was infectious. He grinned, “Well, it’s pretty damn cold; but yeah, I guess it is a beautiful day.”

*****

Therese was not sure how long she had sat staring at her surroundings. Her shivers had turned violent. She had been thinking about Carol. _Carol will be worried about me when I don’t show up in Chicago. I was supposed to call her from Chicago Midway Airport._ The shivering brought her back into the moment. _Girl, you’re going to sit here and die if you don’t get your act together._ She stood. Her muscles had stiffened. Therese groaned as she took a step. _What are you, Belivet, a fucking old lady?_

Therese made a slow 360 assessing her surroundings. The pilot was skilled; he put the 26-ton aircraft down on a half-mile saddle joining two mountains. If not for a “mid-runway” eight-foot-high outcropping of rocks, more passengers would be standing with Therese. Noticing the western horizon, she frowned; it was gunmetal grey. _That’s the front Jim mentioned!_ Her heart filled with sorrow. _Jim, you brave, brave man._ Therese shook the remorse from her mind and took a cautious step into the field of snow between her and the tail section. Her stockinged foot only sank a few inches before contacting the hard ground. _Shit, that’s cold! Where the fuck, are my shoes?_ Therese glanced back at the path she had taken to this point. Therese reasoned that she must have shed her blue pumps during one of her snowy submersions. She determinedly turned and continued to take tentative steps—the footing held for the fifty-yards to the tail section.

The tail section angled back towards her left; Therese could not see inside the cavernous wreckage. As she neared, Therese realized that the separation of the tail section from the front of the aircraft occurred at the main passenger entrance just aft of the wings. The galley and coat closets were located there. Therese was already visualizing this “structure” as her new home. The closets were now part of her ceiling. The galley was a tangle of steel appliances surrounding the doorway. The doorway formerly faced portside; now it rested in the snow. Foil covered lunch trays were strewn about the ground, and coats dangled from the closets or contributed to a pile of muted colors in the doorway.

Therese cautiously made her way to the opening and gazed into the fuselage. She quickly spun around and collapsed to all fours in the snow. She emptied the meager contents of her stomach. Therese kept her eyes closed, but the macabre image was burned into her psyche. She was dizzy. “No! You can’t pass out!” she screamed. She crawled a few feet away, stood, and gathered her courage. Therese saw Carol in her mind. _‘Kitten, those_ _jagged surfaces will tear your bare feet to ribbons; you need shoes … men’s shoes.’ A man’s or … a boy’s?_

Therese enjoyed watching a family board that morning. An attractive fortyish couple was traveling with their two sons, one an adolescent and the other a toddler. They had boarded ahead of her and turned to their seats in aft. At Angie’s direction, Therese was directed forward.

Therese took a deep breath and recalled her gruesome snapshot. The mother was suspended from her seat. Her arms and legs hung down as if yearning for her husband and older son; the males were crumpled together in a forever-embrace against their broken window. Therese did not see the little one during her glance. Two hefty Marines’ seatbelts must have snapped; the pair of war survivors lay broken against the bulkhead. None were burned. Obviously, the suffocating smoke inundated this section, but the fire did not.

Therese glanced at her watch. It was still on Pacific Time. _A quarter to ten!_ She glanced at the ominous sky. _Possible high winds dumping snow with sub-zero temperatures._ Therese removed the foil from four of the Bakelite meal trays. She wrapped two of the sheets around each of her numb feet to create a pair of protective moccasins. She cleared the coats from her path, surprisingly finding her own. Therese put it on, then fished her “Carol-gloves” from the right pocket. After her hands nestled into the supple leather, she felt a sense of warmth and resolve flow through her being.

With the garments removed, a narrow but clear path now led into the tail section. Therese went straight to the boy’s body. She gently pulled him from his father’s arms then backed out of the fuselage with the body in tow. Clear of the tail section, she considered the corpse. He was her height or an inch taller and skinny with a small waist. She knelt beside him and placed her hands on his freckled cheeks, then gently kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I need your pants and shoes. Please forgive me.” Therese untied the laces of his Buster Browns and slipped them off. She removed his socks as well. Next, Therese undid his buckle, slipped out the belt, and removed his corduroys. She pulled the trousers up under her skirt and over her garter belt. The pants buttoned for a snug fit; she would not need the belt. The pants were dry. She smiled. They would shield her legs as her woolen skirt dried. _Damn, I’m glad I wore wool._ She cast her foil slippers aside then pulled his socks over her hose. The practical brown leather shoes were a wee bit big. _That’s fine; there’s no telling how many pairs of socks I’ll be layering._ She stood and stomped her feet. _Okay!_

Therese dragged the boy’s body around to the fuselage's far side and laid it to rest perpendicular with the aircraft a few feet from the end of the tail section. _That’s one._ Without pause, Therese doggedly went to work, removing and transporting the bodies of the parents and the two Marines. The warriors were the most difficult. She removed the smallest Marine’s wool uniform. Therese felt she would need it; despite her vigorous activity, even the midday temperature felt no more than 20°. Her shivering had lessened but not stopped.

Therese noticed a long piece of wire hanging from the opening. She jerked it free, then went and tied one end to the boy’s ankle. She secured the other end to a tie-down on the DC-6’s tail. If the snow piled up, even if Therese perished, a search party would find her little graveyard by following the wire.

Therese began to gather all of the food she could find. Hunger pangs hit her as she lifted the trays that she had uncovered earlier. Each meal was the same. The tray's geometrically shaped sections contained a half-inch thick slice of baked ham, English peas, chocolate pudding, a hard roll, and a pat of butter. A fractured cooler had spilled little cartons of juice and milk. She paused a moment to devour one of the meals. Flatware was not a problem; it littered the area. Therese chased the food with a half-pint of milk. After the meal, she resumed collecting food and beverages. Lunch trays, soft drinks, fresh fruit, and crackers now filled a space next to the backside of the bulkhead. She knew it would freeze, but she would deal with that later. A magnetic bar still held the stewardesses’ sharp food prep knives. Therese took one, sheathed it with a cloth napkin, and slipped it in her coat pocket. Since the other two’s attachment had survived the violent crash, she reasoned they would be there if she needed them. Therese spotted a handled, stamped metal box labeled “Tools.” It contained utility scissors, a small hammer, pliers, a petite monkey wrench, and a screwdriver. Near the tools were a compact but well-stocked first aid kit and three flashlights.

Therese ventured out to investigate the cargo strewn about her area. Some were located west towards the smoldering wreck, and the rest trailed east all the way past the severed port horizontal stabilizer. Her heart raced when she saw something of the nature she sought. She carefully made her way towards a wooden crate.

Many things will burn as a source of heat, but some don’t burn well or safely. Therese was on her own; there were no doctors or emergency personnel. She could not afford to make any stupid mistakes involving toxic fumes. Therese had found a cane in one of the coat closets. She used it to probe the snow in front of her as she moved east to the crate. She had fashioned a shoulder strap for the toolbox from the boy’s belt. Upon reaching the crate, she tested its weight. It was quite heavy. She used the claw hammer to pry out a few nails and looked inside the rectangular container. The oak crate housed a padded piece of medical equipment; perhaps it was part of an x-ray machine. She cleared the padding, stood the equipment upright, then shoved it over and out of the crate. Therese pushed the crate and its padding material across the snow to the tail section.

Now having fuel, Therese needed a stove. She had already seen the necessary materials among the scattered wreckage. A long piece of air duct would be her chimney, and the steel cabinet formerly housing the lunch trays would be her heater. Therese placed her would-be heater in the tail section making sure nothing was touching it. She smashed a hole in the top big enough to accept her chimney. It protruded out of the fuselage via one of the starboard side’s shattered windows. Therese busted up the crate and stored the kindling in the tail section well away from the stove. Therese had seen such a homemade heater at one of Lucy Liner’s neighbors once. _One makes do with what one has_ , she thought.

Therese found blankets and pillows in the overhead compartments. She grabbed every coat, blanket, and pillow she could find and started making a sleeping space of the port side's interior, now her floor. Some of the port windows were broken. To keep any melted snow from seeping up into her “nest,” Therese used the scissors to cut large fabric pieces from the sixteen passenger seats. She lined the entire “floor” of the space with the water-resistant material, then rolled up scores of coats to fashion a sizeable mattress. Therese had seven woolen blankets and eight pillows. She piled them in the space to be employed as needed. Therese aggressively cut the cushioning from the seats to stuff into the shattered windows of her ceiling. That only required a few of the cushions, so she used the rest to help her close the tail section’s large “mouth.” Therese employed the tools to bend aluminum and pull more wires. She succeeded in closing about two-thirds of the opening.

She stopped to consider her handy work. Therese bent over, grabbing her knees, trying to catch her breath. In frustration, she gasped, Therese, “I thought you were in shape _._ ” It suddenly dawned on her that she was standing at an elevation of five or six thousand feet. Therese sat down and drank a carton of orange juice to help her recover. She almost started crying but barked, “No!”

Therese decided to commit some of her blankets to the “wall.” As she scanned the space for materials, Therese spotted the corner of a blanket hanging from what would have been the bottom of the seat in front of the ill-fated mom. Therese stood on the side of a port aisle seat, grabbed the mother’s seat, and pulled herself up. Hooking her right elbow over the seat’s arm, she reached for the blanket with her left hand. A little hand snatched it away from her. Therese screamed in shock and almost lost her hold on the arm of the chair. She fought to secure her position.

Therese fretted about the fate of the little boy earlier. Not seeing a sign of him, she figured her mind had simply repressed the concern to protect her.

As Therese dangled painfully, she regained her composure and gently patted the blanket. “Hey, sweetie, do you want some juice? I won’t hurt you, little boy. Your mommy and daddy had to step out. They asked me to babysit you.” The little boy began to cry. The muffled sound was heartbreaking. Therese eased the blanket toward her. The child was crammed in the little cave surrounded by pillows and the blanket. This time the child did not pull his cover back. A pair of chestnut eyes peered at her. She took his hand. He was freezing. His lips were blue. “Come on, sweetie. Come to Therese. I’ve got some chocolate pudding for you.”

After what seemed like an eternity, “He reached out and crawled into Therese’s left arm. He wrapped his own arms tightly around her neck. She held him firmly and clambered down into the nest. His dozen or so baby teeth were chattering. He started crying again. Therese grabbed some blankets and snuggled him in her arms. She cooed soft words of comfort and rocked him gently. He quit crying a quarter-hour later and fell asleep. Therese eased him to her side then covered him loosely with a blanket. She whispered, “Poor little man.”

Therese stood pondering the child. She had gently squeezed his arms and legs, checking for injury. The appendages seemed fine; he hadn’t winced. He wore a red-plaid wool romper and matching cap. The cap had flaps and a chinstrap. Between the heavy warm outfit, the quilt, and pillows, his life was saved. _You did well, Momma._ Therese wondered if he had gone into shock after the crash and fallen asleep, _or did you get knocked out, honey?_ Earlier, she had eased off his cap to check his noggin. She found no cuts or bruises beneath his feathery brown hair.

Therese considered his needs. He was old enough to eat solid food, but she needed to save all the remaining milk for him. She could mix up chopped ham and peas to concoct a pretty good baby food. _Baby food?_ _Surely that lady had a diaper bag._ Surprisingly, his diaper was dry during her examination, but she knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Therese went to the pile of carry-ons and found the diaper bag. She inventoried the contents. There were indeed two jars of Gerber along with a dozen cloth diapers, a score of diaper pins, pajamas, baby powder, baby shampoo, a tiny comb, a baby spoon, and a baby cup. She also found an envelope containing a vaccination card. She whispered his hand-printed name, “Ronald Hugh Benoit,” and the parents, “Mark E. and Linda D. Benoit.” _I wonder what Budda’s name was._ A howling wind caused Therese to glance back at her incomplete wall. She also noticed that the clouds had stolen their sunshine. Her watch showed half-past two. With her usual attention to detail, Therese spun the hand’s forward one hour. _It’s Mountain Time here._ The reality of the storm’s deleterious effect on any rescue effort was sobering. _Ronnie, you enjoy your nap; Therese needs to finish our house._

*****

Carol’s morning session went great. Margaret and Gates took her for a sandwich at RJ’s. Ruby and Jitka only managed a wave and a “hello;” the place was hopping.

Gates asked, “Carol, what time is Therese supposed to call from Chicago?”

“Between two and three.”

“That suit is stunning on you, Carol.”

“Thanks, Gates! You two were sweethearts to give it to me. I never dreamed of owning a Norell original.”

Margaret patted her arm, “It’s the least we can do after reading your article.”

Gates nodded in agreement.

“You’ve both read it?”

“Of course, dear, I had to hunt Gates down and show it to him as soon as I finished.”

“Gates teased, “Girl, that suit is going to knock T for a loop.”

Margaret chuckled at Carol’s blush.

After Carol finished her Coke, she glanced at the customers waiting by the door. “Hey, y’all, let’s head back up and let those folks have this table.”

Gates glanced at the waiting patrons then snatched up the check. He insisted, “I got this,” and handed the check and a ten to their waitress.

The college girl chimed, “I’ll get your change.”

“Keep it, honey.”

The girl’s eyes opened wide, “Thanks, Mr. Bogg!”

Margaret gave her gold-hearted business partner a quick side-hug.

Once upstairs, Carol went to edit and asked if they had any changes to discuss.

Belinda Faith, the lead editor, waved Carol over. “Greenlight, Carol!”

“What?”

“It’s been sent to layout.”

“That was fast.”

“Darlin’, that was clean!”

“Thank you.”

“Sure thing. Hey, are you working on something else?”

“I have an outline, but Mags told me not to discuss it until she and Gates talk it over.”

“Oh, me. That’s the slowest part.”

Carol laughed, “But it works.”

“Yes, it does. Call me if you need any help.”

“I will.”

Belinda’s secretary called out, “Miss Aird, Mrs. Slate is on the line.”

Carol glanced at her, a bit surprised.

Belinda offered, “You can take it in my office, Carol.”

“Thanks.” Carol stepped to Belinda’s desk.

“I’ll put her through, Miss Aird.”

Carol answered at the first ring. “Mags?”

“Carol, I need you to come to my office right away.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t think so, but Con wants us to call him immediately.”

“Then I’m on my way.”

As soon as Carol reached Margaret’s doorway, Margaret began dialing. She gestured for Carol to take a seat. “Deb, Con asked me to call back.”

Carol heard Con’s secretary reply, “Yes, Ma’am. Please hold.”

Carol anxiously waited for Con to get on the line.

Margaret spoke, “Hi, Con. I have Carol here in my office.” She listened, “Sure,… Carol, Con wants to ask you something.” She reached out with the handset. As Carol stood and grasped the handset, Margaret picked up her other phone and pressed the same line.

Margaret said, “Okay, Con, we’re both on.”

Con began, “Hi, Carol. I want to alert you to something before you hear about it on the radio or in some other way.”

Carol slumped down in her chair. “What is it, Con?”

“Our office just got notified that an eastbound airline flight out of San Francisco is missing. The crew’s last two transmissions were received at Denver just after ten Mountain Time. At 10:02, they reported an onboard fire. At 10:09, they were going to make an emergency landing.”

“What was their position?” asked Carol.

“All we know is that they were somewhere over Idaho … the Rockies. I got Therese’s flight number from Mags earlier. It’s the same.”

Carol let the phone sink to her lap and lowered her face into her hands. She shook as she began to sob.

Margaret murmured, “Con, she’s breaking down.”

“I’m sorry, Mags. Hold her. I’ll come over there right after I call Janice.”

“Okay. Hey, will you inform Jitka and Ruby before you come up?”

He sighed, “Sure. Hey, Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell Carol this yet, but blizzard-like conditions are rapidly moving into those mountains.”

“Okay. Bye-bye, Love.”

“Bye.”

Margaret hung up and moved to Carol’s side. She slipped the handset from Carol’s lap and placed it on its base. The friend and boss knelt at Carol’s knees, hugging her while gently patting her back.

*****

Therese finished her wall as quietly as possible. Complete with a door flap fashioned from the crate’s packing material, she was mostly satisfied with the project. Therese was also excited about her wood-burning heater. Testing it with caution, she had started with small amounts of oak. As it showed promise, she added more wood. But Therese did not want to tempt her luck; she kept the fire modest. All she wanted was enough heat to ward off the lowest of temperatures.

She heard Ronnie stirring. Therese walked back to the lavatories to wash her hands. Resting sideways at the rearmost of the tail section, they were only useful as water sources. But that was convenient; until the sizeable water tank froze in a day or two, she would not have to melt snow for water. Therese had located the vessel’s auxiliary spigot earlier. She had no trouble filling a half-gallon aluminum pitcher scavenged from the galley. After drinking a cup of the water, she saturated a washcloth. Therese washed her face and hands with a bar of the airline soap then hurried back to her “ward.”

The little fellow was lolling in the blankets, babbling away incoherently. Therese slowly uncovered him. She did not want to scare him. She was so relieved when he smiled at her. Earlier she had been wearing some man’s charcoal fedora to keep her head warm. Later, she wondered if he found it frightening. She did not have it on now and decided to leave it off for a while. As a test, she waited until he looked away, then asked, “Ronnie?”

His eyes shot back to hers. “I thought you looked like a Ronnie rather than a Ronald or Ron.” She lifted him and kissed him on the cheek and a hug.

Ronnie glanced around and, in a questioning tone, then chirped, “Momma?”

 _Ah, a real word._ “Momma stepped out, Ronnie. Hey, how about bananas?” She was prepared. Therese held up the jar of Gerber Strained Bananas. Ronnie clapped. Therese cackled with glee.

He took several bites, then announced, “Dink!”

“You want a drink?” She held up his cup. “Milk?”

He clapped, nodding, “Mulk!”

“Well, aren’t you the talker?” She wished the vaccination card had revealed his date of birth or age in years.

He held the cup's handles with both his hands and took a long draw. Therese was about to intercede when he lowered the cup and sounded, “Ayhhh!”

Therese parroted him, “Ayhhh!”

He giggled and said, “Ma nanna!”

“What … oh … more banana?” She held up the jar.

He nodded. Therese was scrapping the bottom of the jar a few minutes later. He had drained the cup as well. He burped. Therese chuckled, “Well, that was a good one!”

Ronnie rolled away and started crawling around the nest. Therese had placed some Bakelite coffee cups and stainless spoons in the nest, hoping he might play with them. He tapped them around for a while, then stopped and turned to Therese. “Bear-wuh?”

“What, darlin’?”

“Ma bear-wuh?”

“Oh, did you have a teddy bear?”

“He anxiously nodded, “Ma bear-wuh.”

She had not seen a bear in the diaper bag, but she rifled through it again.

Ronnie lunged over and peered longingly in the bag. He rolled over dejectedly and gazed at her. His eyes were glistening with tears. The dark clouds and the setting sun provided little light through the two intact starboard windows. Therese took one of the three flashlights she had found in the galley and shone it up towards the spot he had ridden out the crash. Once again, she climbed up and felt around with her hand. Her finger touched a fuzzy object. Therese freed the stuffed animal and dropped it to Ronnie. He screamed with delight as he enveloped his furry friend. The toddler melodically chimed, “Bear-wuh, bear-wuh, bear-wuh.”

Therese searched the area further and found a Goldilocks book shoved down in the seat next to his mother’s. After a lengthy reunion with his bear, she read to him with the flashlight. She thought this bonding moment was worth burning some of her DC; Therese came across six spare batteries during her rummage. A grunt preceded a foul odor. Therese methodically unsnapped Ronnie’s romper, cleaned him up, and changed his diaper. It dawned on her that she would have to boil some water at some point and launder the soiled diapers. In the meantime, she dropped it on a sheltered section of the galley floor.

Therese lullabied Ronnie to sleep. She ate another of the non-frozen lunches and an apple from the basket of fruit. The wind was picking up outside, and now it was driving snow. Therese decided that she best answer nature’s call before the weather conditions declined even further. She returned from the galley and tied the flap shut.

Her skimpy fire was burning out by design. Therese cuddled up next to the little boy and quickly fell asleep. Later, she awakened to Ronnie’s crying. The wind roared like a passing freight train shaking the fuselage violently. Therese tried holding Ronnie and speaking comfortingly to him. The moisture in her nose froze when she inhaled. It was the fiercest cold Therese had ever experienced. Slammed by a mighty gust, the tail section tilted dramatically to port. Therese glanced at the heater to make sure its fire was out, then she surrendered to the terror and joined her tiny charge. Therese pulled several blankets over them, squeezed him tightly, and wept her heart out. She could hold it back no longer. Therese imagined their structure being blown from the saddle to tumble into the abyss. Somewhere midst the tenure of the frozen tempest, the woman and child passed out.


	20. West Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/Tjqd54I)   
> 

Around three on Wednesday afternoon, Con stepped into Margaret’s office and asked, “Carol, is that your bag?” He gestured to a small suitcase perched by Carol’s feet.

“Yes, and I double-checked it. It will get me by. Therese and I both keep these little suitcases here at the office: a change of clothes, two day’s undies, and toiletries.”

Con nodded, “Yep, mine is in the trunk all the time; sometimes you have to be ready to grab and go.” He considered the reason for this hurried departure then shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, C … I didn’t mean to make light—”

“It’s okay, Con. I know what you meant.” 

Con glanced at Carol’s clear eyes then her freshened makeup and hair. He was proud of her. Carol was over the crying and the emotion; she was once again the steely-eyed mate of his best friend, Therese Belivet. He had a thought. “Hey, did you just say Therese has one up here, too?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s take it. She might not have her luggage when we reach her.”

Carol was heartened by Con’s sincere optimism in finding Therese alive. “That’s a good thought, Con. I’ll go get it.”

Margaret spoke up, “No, I’ll send one of the girls.” She reached for her phone.

Gates had just entered and heard the last bits of conversation. “Never mind, Mags. I’ll go. Carol, is it in your office?”

“Thank you, Gates! Yes, it’s in the corner behind my desk. It’s black.”

“I’m on it.” He hurried away.

Margaret remarked, “You two must go as soon as he returns, or you’ll miss that flight to Omaha.”

Con stepped to hug his wife. “I know, Honey. We’ll make it fine.”

“Gates is going to drive you to the airport?”

“That’s right. He’s driving us there in our car and then taking it over to the Towers to park in the garage. You won’t have to deal with it, Mags.” He knew how his spouse hated driving in New York. 

Mags smiled and kissed him. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.”

Margaret’s secretary stepped to the door, “Mrs. Slate, Phil McElroy is on hold.”

Margaret snatched up the handset, “Phil?”

After a brief exchange, she closed, “Thank you, Phil. Give Janice my love.”

Con and Carol anxiously gazed at Margaret as she hung up the phone. “Phil and Janice have reserved seats out of D.C. on a direct flight to Omaha; it takes off at a quarter-to-five. They will meet you at the Omaha train station sometime after three.” She considered a moment, then noted, “That would be after one there.”

Carol sighed, “I wish the flights to Denver had not been canceled; it would have cut a half-day off the rail time.”

Con replied, “I do, too, C, but the airlines are sure that Denver will be in the grips of the blizzard by then.”

“I know, Con. I’m just being a ninny.”

Con put his arm around her shoulder and jostled Carol. “Lady, you have never been and never will be a ninny.”

Carol shrugged and smiled. 

Gates returned. He had Therese’s bag in one hand and a hatbox and coat bag in the other. Gates set the petite, black suitcase down, then grasped Carol’s shoulders and turned her to face him. “Darling, I know you didn’t have time to go home and change, but let me tell you that you look ravishing in that Norell. Toss your coat in the chair.” He opened the coat bag and pulled a stunning Hattie Carnegie calf-length, black wool coat. “This will keep you warm in the style that suit deserves.” Gates helped Carol put the coat on, then he pulled a fox fur hat from the box and gently snugged it down to her ears. “And that will shelter your pretty noggin. Carol, bring our girl home?” 

Margaret gasped as she squeezed Con’s arm. “Well done, Mr. Bogg!”

Carol hugged Gates. 

Gates smiled at her affectionately, then shrugged, “Okay, bye-bye, Mags. Let’s go, people.”

Con embraced Margaret again, then grabbed Carol’s suitcase before Carol could reach it. After Carol hugged Margaret, they hurried to catch up with Gates. 

Carol and Con landed in Chicago at 07:35 Central. A meal was served on the plane, so they went directly to the next flight’s gate. After registering, Carol checked her watch and realized they had an hour’s wait. She walked to the window and stared at the clear night sky. She fretted to think of the conditions Therese might be experiencing. 

Con joined her and said, “I wish you’d have eaten more of your meal.”

“Hey, you didn’t do much more than pick at yours, G-man.”

“Guilty.”

“Con, I just know in my heart that she’s alive.”

“Me, too.”

They landed in Omaha well after midnight. A headwind had slowed their flight. 

They claimed their baggage and made their way towards the terminal to see about a taxicab. Con smiled as a suit-and-tied gentleman approached them. He knew the look. 

“Special Agent, Slate, I’m Morris Hammer with the Omaha field office. New York called and asked us to give a brother agent a ride.”

“Glad to meet you, Morris. Call me Con. It's mighty nice of you guys. Morris, this is Miss Carol Aird.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Aird. Please let me take that bag.” The young man couldn’t help himself; his gaze lingered on Carol.

Carol was familiar with such, so she quickly let him know she was real, “Thank you, Morris … call me Carol. Are you from Nebraska?”

“Yes, Ma’am … born and bred.”

“Well, then; our train doesn’t arrive until six. You’d probably know somewhere a girl can get a drink at twelve-thirty Thursday morning.”

Morris laughed, “I think I know a bar that’s still open.”

“Carol!” was called out from the other end of the terminal. 

They turned to see Janice and Phil rushing towards them. Janice teased, “Great Scott! You look like a New York fashion model.” The women embraced. Janice whispered, "No, really, you are gorgeous!"

Carol released Janice, then kissed Phil’s cheek and hugged him. She asked, “McElroy, how did you get here before us?”

He laughed, “Our plane was a Connie.”

“Oh!” Carol exclaimed. 

Con shook Phil’s hand and remarked, “They are speedy.”

“That they are. How ya doin’, Con?”

“Good, and you?”

“Fine, but I hate the circumstances.” His voice cracked on “circumstances.”

Janice hugged Con while announcing, “We’ll find our little T and bring her home.”

Con asked, “Your bags?” 

Phil draped his Marine duffle over his shoulder and smirked, “You’re looking at it.”

Carol remarked, “I love it. You two must have left from home.” The Washingtonians were in warm outdoorsy attire. 

Janice explained, “We mostly work from the house these days when we’re not traveling.” Con and Carol would leave it at that. 

Con introduced Morris to Phil and Janice then the Omaha Special Agent led them to his car. Phil and Janice were up for a drink as well. Morris took them to a nice little place in the Old Market. Morris pointed out that the place was known for its extensive offerings of whiskey. 

Carol, trying to keep a stiff upper lip, chimed, “Then whiskey it is.”

They squeezed into a long booth. When Carol carefully removed her mesmerizing headgear, Morris gasped, “Whoa! You’re that gal in _Doll_!”

She chuckled, “No! You must be mistaken.”

He stared in confusion. Phil nudged him. “Man, she’s pulling your leg.”

Con asked, “Tell me, Morris. Is that what you G-men in the Omaha office keep in the break room … back issues of _Doll_?”

Morris turned red. He stammered, “No,… well, no … my wife is a subscriber.”

Carol rescued him, “What’s her name, Morris?”

“Cindy.”

“Little ones?”

“We’re expecting our first in June.”

“That’s marvelous. Congratulations!”

Con said, “Hey, Morris, if that’s the case, why don’t you head on home, and we’ll get a cab to the train station.”

“Uh, with respect, Sir, my boss told me to take care of y’all. So that’s what I’m gonna do. Besides, I’ve got all day tomorrow with Cindy. This forecast is so bad; Agent Toye told us to stay home.”

Janice blurted, “Here’s to Special Agents Toye and Hammer. Damn … that sounds like a law firm.”

Carol noted, “I don’t know; it sounds like the perfect pair of detective names. You know … the bad cop, good cop thing?”

Morris sheepishly remarked, “The only thing is, it would be backward.”

They laughed as they dinked their glasses of Crown Royal. 

They all slowed after the first glass and nursed a second for the hour to closing. 

Morris dropped them at the train station and bid them goodbye. 

Janice observed, “What a sweet guy. Cindy is a lucky girl.”

Con nodded proudly. 

Their train was coming from the east. It pulled in a few minutes early. They all imagined that its trek from this point would not be so timely. They boarded and were shown to their drawing rooms. Janice and Carol took the first one, and the men bunked in the second. Exhausted, they all crawled into their bunk beds. They chatted a while, but as the sun began to rise, their eyes fell closed. Even the distressed Carol faded away. Janice glanced at her in the muted sunlight from the closed curtains. She smiled, then whispered, “Sweet dreams, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/cZnd519)   
> 
> 
> A new high for "Flesch Reading Ease."


	21. Snow Train

Therese awoke, shivering. Ronnie was, too, but he fitfully slept away. She had to think for a moment to recall what day it was, _Thursday._ Therese poked her head free from their mountain of blankets and was pleased to discover the diffused light of day. She stared up at the intact starboard windows and noticed that all but one were covered with snow. Her stomach growled. _We survived!_ Therese ever so carefully shifted her tiny companion from her arms and crawled free of the woolen mass.

Therese went to her wall, peeked out, and found snow piled halfway up her door flap. She saw nothing but white. The wind had dissipated; big snowflakes were falling straight down. She estimated her visibility at about a hundred feet. At some point, she would exit, but not now. Therese figured she’d have to shovel the snow away from her entrance with a lunch tray to keep it from falling in their cocoon when she did choose to venture out.

She gathered a few pieces of kindling, and then using some bits of newspaper and the airline matches, Therese started a fire. She spread her fingers and took her hands as near the flames as she dared. The stranded model sighed as her digits warmed.

Therese fashioned a metal stand from fuselage fragments and placed it over the fire. She half-filled one of the airline pitchers with water then placed it atop the stand. Therese grinned at the thought of hot water. The aircraft’s coffee making equipment had been trashed, but Therese did locate a canister of coffee the day before. She could not percolate it; Therese wondered if she could strain it somehow.

While she pondered the challenge, she lit one of Mr. Benoit's Chesterfield’s. The inhaled smoke warmed her core. After amusing herself with one of the smoke rings Carol had taught her, Therese had a coffee epiphany. The airline used cloth napkins. Therese tortured a few more bits of metal to make another stand. This one held the napkin to serve as a filter. Therese placed a cup below the contraption. She spooned some coffee grounds into the cloth, then checked her water. It was boiling. She methodically filled the filter, let it drain then repeated until her cup was full. It wasn’t great, but at this point, it was the best cup of coffee she’d ever had. She drank the coffee black and ate two of the hard rolls with butter. Therese laughed to discover Ronnie’s dark eyes peering at her from the nest. She wondered how long he had been observing her.

Therese finished filtering another cup for herself. Then she poured the remainder of the steaming water into another cup; after it cooled a bit, she would give Ronnie a wash. Therese grabbed one of the milk cartons to find it had turned into a half-pint brick. She cut the paper carton away and dropped the cube in her pitcher. She placed it atop the glowing embers to melt and warm.

Therese went to Ronnie and eased him from the covers. She hugged him and cooed, “Good morning, sweet baby.” She assumed the modest heat from her stove chased away his chill. Therese removed his romper and draped it over one of the starboard seats to air. She changed his diaper and bathed him. She used some of the baby powder to protect his little bum and privates. Freshly diapered, she clothed him in the baby jammies from his bag.

Therese propped him up in a little throne she sculpted in the blankets and gave him his cup. He sipped the warmed milk and grinned. Therese twisted and tapped a skillet from the aircraft’s skin. She used it to heat one of the now frozen lunches. When heated, Therese chipped up the ham and mashed the peas. She stirred the two together and offered a spoonful to Ronnie. He hesitated a moment, then opened his mouth. He chewed it a while, then swallowed. He smiled at her and opened his mouth again. The tot ate all of it.

The snow fell all day. Therese rationed their wood. She kept one or two embers glowing and occasionally stirred the fire before adding a single piece of kindling. To avoid leaving the shelter, Therese removed one of the airplane’s metal toilets and plugged it with some bowl liberated from the galley. This rig became a chamber pot.

Therese kept a cautious eye on the outside world. By four in the afternoon, the snow was halfway up the fuselage. The snowy blanket proved fortuitous; it provided some insulation. She remarked, “Ronnie! I guess we live in an igloo.”

He giggled at the funny-sounding word. Therese gently poked her finger about his arms and chest, chiming, “Igloo, igloo, igloo!” He fought them off, squealing with glee.

*****

Janice said, “Thank goodness she fell asleep … five hours and still out when I left to join you guys.”

Con nodded, “Yep, I slept some on our flights, but she didn’t.”

Phil asked, “Do you think all of the stops will take as long as that first one?”

Con replied, “I hope not ’cause we got a lot more over the next two days.”

The three of them stared out the window at the Nebraska countryside. They were eating lunch in the dining car of the _City of San Francisco_. They hoped their next stop would be a short one; it was the small town of Julesburg, Colorado. The weather front’s winds were beginning to rock the train, and the first snowflakes were shooting by the windows.

Janice asked, “Con, I saw you use the phone at the stop.”

Con hesitated then responded, “I called the Bureau in D.C. to find out if this has hit the wire feeds.”

“And?”

“It has, but they don’t know where the plane went down other than somewhere in southern Idaho. Any kind of aerial search will be impossible until late Friday or even Saturday. It’s a whiteout.”

They glanced concernedly out the window. Phil predicted, “And we’ll be in the thick of that before ya know it.”

They collided with the fierce weather that night near Cheyenne, Wyoming. It slowed their progress. They were delayed in Cheyenne while a snowplow engine worked the rails ahead of them. They reached Green River, Wyoming, at noon on Friday. Their route required they transfer from the _City of San Francisco_ to a lesser passenger train; it only offered coach cars. They didn’t mind. No one was sleeping very much at this point.

A radio broadcast and newspaper at Green River indicated that the missing airplane was headline news. They all felt like crying when the radio announcer finished with, “And this just in … _Doll_ magazine fashion sensation Therese Belivet is reported to be one of the passengers on the ill-fated flight.”

They stopped at Pocatello, Idaho, for fuel and passengers on Friday night. The snow had stopped, so they stepped to the platform to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. The starry sky was breathtaking. Their original destination was Boise on the advice of an airline pilot buddy of Con’s.

At three on Saturday morning, a porter came through and softly mentioned they would arrive at Boise in a half-hour. Carol had fallen asleep with her head on Con’s shoulder. Janice slept curled across from them with her head in Phil’s lap. Con and Phil smiled at one another. Con whispered to Phil, “Let’s give ’em fifteen more minutes.”

Phil nodded in agreement.

*****

Therese and Ronnie ached from the cold. She could tell the little boy felt the same way because of the way he stiffly moved. It was first light on Saturday morning, Therese had to force herself to get up and start their morning routine. She had an agenda.

After breakfast, a couple of diaper changes, and a couple of cigarettes, she tore a long strip from one of the blankets and made a leash to keep Ronnie from toddling out of the nest. There were a hundred ways he could hurt himself in the fuselage. The stove was a special concern. She tested it by pulling him this way and the other. Once satisfied, she went to work.

Therese used one of the lunch trays to shovel snow from the galley. She was gassed after clearing a pathway. She stopped and drank a Coke. The bright sun was killing her eyes. Her sunglasses burned with her handbag in the fire, and she had checked Mrs. Benoit’s purse to no avail. She forced her self to frequently close her eyes and work blind when possible. Task number one was complete.

The surrounding snow was several feet deeper. Therese remembered the treacherous dives of Wednesday. She had pulled the men’s shoelaces on Wednesday for what purpose she did not know. Therese now used them to fashion snowshoes from a couple of the lunch trays. She punched tie-down holes through the trays with the screwdriver and hammer. It took several experiments to make a usable pair. She took great care with each step; a trip and fall would send her deep into the snow. Number two was complete.

Ronnie was miserable through all of this and cried out repeatedly, “Tez! Tez! Mor oba dare!”

It was breaking her heart, but she had to get these things done for them. She hollered to him, “It’s okay, Ronnie! Therese will be back in a minute. Play with Bear!”

She pressed on. Distressingly, Therese quickly realized that the debris field that was so visible on Wednesday was now covered with snow. Task number three was to create two things for attracting search aircraft: a debris pile for a bonfire and a colorful banner. She would not dare rob any of the kindling from her dwindling supply for such a fire. There were not even subtle bumps in the snow to mark the scattered contents of the cargo hold.

“Tez! Tez! Mor oba dare!” Ronnie wailed.

She was a hundred feet from the tail section. She yelled, “Ronnie! I’m here! Play with Bear!”

A tear ran down her cheek, and she felt it freezing in the frigid air. She flicked it away with her gloved finger. Therese glared at the jagged remnants of the DC-6 in the distance. “Shit, if I just had a fraction of all that luggage and upholstery … gone up in fuckin’ smoke.”

For the first time, Therese noticed the towering peak in the distance. Another one stood behind her. In normal times, they would be magnificent wonders of nature for Carol and her to enjoy and photograph. _They must top out at three or four thousand feet above me._ Dejectedly she returned to the tail section, pulled the trays from her feet, and joined Ronnie. He reached out for her; the strap was taught with his pull. Big red streaks ran down his cheeks. Therese tightly closed the flap behind her, then freed him of the strap and scooped him up. She hugged the distraught child and swayed until he stopped crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/9n6CjTW)


	22. "Ka-wuh"

Their gamble had paid off; Boise was indeed the place to be. The search and rescue effort for Therese’s flight was centered at the Civil Aeronautics Authority’s flight station at Gowen Field, an Army Air Force facility. The CAA building’s conference room served as an operations center. Since leasing the field in 1941 from Boise, the USAAF had trained six thousand bomber pilots at Gowen. Currently, the military was in the process of shutting down Gowen; they would soon be turning the airfield back over to the City of Boise.

Con, Phil, and Janice’s credentials combined with their personal connection to one of the missing passengers got them access into the thick of it. Search flights had been out since first light. At eleven, most of the personnel had returned to debrief, compare notes, eat lunch, and receive new search assignments. The conference room thinned out after lunch. The pilots, technicians, and officials scattered to renew their search. A large, marked-up map hung on the wall. Carol and Phil studied it while Janice and Con spoke to the leader of the search. A stocky fellow with a ruddy complexion stood next to Carol and Phil. He politely slipped off his Chicago Cubs cap and turned to them. “I beg your pardon, folks; my name is Johnny Rodriguez, and I couldn’t help but over here that you have someone on that flight.”

Phil responded, “Hello, Mr. Rodriguez, I’m Phil McElroy, and this is Carol Aird.” Phil extended his hand to shake Johnny’s.

Johnny hesitated to offer Carol his hand, but she assertively reached out and grasped the leathery mitt. Carol replied, “Yes, our friend, Therese Belivet, is on that flight.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, folks, but it’s nice to see all the effort being put into this search.”

“Yes, they’re good people,” Carol said and then glanced concernedly back at the wall map. “But it’s such a massive area … and all of these mountains … I just.” She stopped to swallow.

Johnny continued, “It is, Miss Aird.” After a pause, he added, “I want to let you folks know that I’m a pilot. I came home last August after four years in the Air Corp; I was a maintenance crew chief … mostly in England, but later they trained me to fly light observation planes. I flew in France, the Low Countries, and Germany. Anyway, I saved my Army pay to buy my own plane when I got out. I purchased an Army surplus L-5 Sentinel in October and fly it out of a little county field a few miles from here. I give flyin’ lessons and take tourists skiing or sightseeing. It’s just a small plane, but it’s a start.”

Carol nodded, “That’s impressive, Mr. Rodrigues.”

“Thanks, Ma’am, but I told you all that because I want to help. If you folks will pay for my fuel, I’ll help with the search.” He leaned closer and whispered. “Frankly, they haven’t even covered some areas. For instance, I’d hit Blaine County first.” He pointed at a spot on the map.

Carol and Phil stepped to the map and peered at the location. Carol read, “The Pioneer Mountains … Cobb Peak, Devil's Bedside East, Duncan’s Peak, Goat Mountain, Hyndman Peak …”

Johnny confirmed, “Yep, that’s the ones.”

Johnny turned to find Phil offering a fifty-dollar bill. “Will that get us started?”

Johnny grinned, “Us? Will you go up with me?”

“I insist.”

“That’d be great; I can use the extra set of eyes … and the company. You are dressed practical enough, but do you have a heavy coat?”

Phil pointed at the folding chair in the corner, holding his pea coat and knit cap. Johnny responded, “Good enough. Hey, I know a serviceman when I meet him … did you lose that arm in the war.”

“1st Marines, Guadalcanal.”

“Damn! Okay! Let’s go, Marine.”

Con, Janice, and Carol waved to Phil and Johnny as they departed in Johnny’s truck. Con could have squeezed into the small jump seat behind Johnny and Phil, but Johnny cautioned that the weight of a third man would cost them fuel and time aloft. Con quickly opted to remain behind.

Carol closed her eyes and envisioned Therese waving at the men as they flew over her love. She smiled.

Janice asked, “Hey, are you okay, darling?”

Carol popped her eyes open. “Of course. I’m fine.”

*****

Therese had been busy during Ronnie’s afternoon nap. After his feeding, Ronnie had been tumbling around coaxing “Tez” to wrestle with him. His foot drove down between two of the rolled-up coats and pried one of them out. Therese started to put the garment back in its spot when she noticed a bright red one in the layer below. She pulled the colorful outer garment and shook it out to reveal a crimson cape.

As her fellow slept, she sacrificed a couple of blankets. She tore more strips like the one she did earlier to make Ronnie’s retention strap. When she finished, her aching hands held a hundred-foot “rope.” She tied one end securely to a gathered corner of the cape and the other to one of the few unexploded bottles of frozen Coca-Cola. She had forgotten that the carbonated bottles would burst open at extremely low temperatures.

Therese reattached the “snowshoes “ to her Buster Browns and ventured out. She walked to the far side of the tail section and flung the bottle over the fuselage. The projectile trailed its tether as it flew. Therese sidestepped, working the rope up the leading edge of the starboard horizontal stabilizer. At its top, she went to the other side of the tail section and pulled the coat up to the top of the “fin.” Therese took a deep breath, then jiggled and popped the rope until it slipped into the gap between the stabilizer and its elevator. Therese pulled it tight then tied her rope off on the prostrate vertical stabilizer. With the rope wedged in the gap, the intermittent winds flapped the bright cape like a flag on a pole.

Excitedly, Therese pulled her sled, a five by eight sheet of fuselage skin in the direction of the DC-6 wreckage. She approximated the location of the rocky plate that supported her on Wednesday. After removing her snowshoes, Therese dug vigorously with a scoop fashioned from more of the metal skin. A couple of feet down, she hit the slab-like surface. The _Doll_ model kept digging and flinging until she cleared a spot large enough to hold her sled.

Therese had one and one only accelerant. The thoughtful flight attendants kept a tin of lighter fluid in the galley to rescue their tobacco loving passengers. Therese squirted the eclectic pile until the tin’s spout puffed air. She struck a match and lit the soaked sleeve of an overcoat. Yes, Therese was gambling. Just as she had when she went home with Tommy and Tater. Or said yes to Carol’s invitation to walk down for dinner. Or told Carol to turn left on Albany Avenue in Atlantic City. But the ten coats weren’t alone on the aluminum surface; the wool, rayon, and satin fabrics were accompanied by the Bakelite arms of all sixteen of the airline seats and every last scrap of the tail section’s reading material.

Therese secured her snowshoes and plodded away from the fire. Her red flag waved at her. She stopped halfway to the tail section to turn and watched the wind fan the flames of her signal fire. The nasty smoke was yellow and black. It climbed into the crystalline sky and snaked across the escarpment. The fire emitted a noxious odor. She retreated to the tail section. As she removed the trays from her feet, Therese heard Ronnie call, “Tez! Hey! Me!”

She opened the flap and smiled, “Hey, you? … Oh, you little bugger.”

The little fellow enjoyed the last of their orange juices in his cup. At one point, he paused and offered the cup to Therese, “Dink?”

Therese took a sip and chimed, “Thank you, Young Sir.”

He giggled.

Therese looked up at one of the windows then squeezed her eyes shut. She said, “Carol, I love you, and I can’t wait to see you.”

An hour later, she peered out to check the fire. It was still smoldering a bit, but only muted wisps took to the air every few seconds.

*****

Phil and Johnny hummed through the valleys and over the crests of the Pioneer Mountains. “Phil, no offense, but have you seen a crash site from the air?”

“None taken. No, I have not.”

“Well, I want to warn you that they can sometimes be little more than a blackened spot.” He saw Phil wince. “But, let’s hope this guy was good and lucky. You might spot the whole damn thing.”

Phil nodded. Then asked hesitantly, “Or, parts?”

“Exactly! That’s what I started to advise; look for parts of a wing, a stabilizer, or a nose section. And remember how much snow just fell in these mountains.”

“Roger that.”

Johnny banked right as he crossed Duncan Ridge. He vectored south on the distant Hyndman Peak.

“Phil asked, how much longer can we search?”

“A got two issues, fuel and daylight. Either one gives us about twenty minutes … thirty tops.”

“Shit.”

Johnny nodded.

Phil wiggled his toes. They were numb. Johnny had tossed him a blanket earlier. Phil took it from his shoulders and wrapped it around and under his feet.

Johnny grinned, “Good idea.”

As they curved around the base of Hyndman Peak, Johnny pointed to the southwest, saying, “That’s Cobb Peak; it’s really something, huh?” He steered directly for it.

Phil glanced at the dramatic pyramid for a few seconds then went back to scanning the terrain to the sides and below. He blinked to clear his eyes after seeing a single puff of smoke. It was gone. He concentrated on the area. Another grey smudge appeared. “Johnny, there’s smoke over there!”

Johnny leaned to Phil’s shoulder and looked to where the Marine pointed. The pilot banked right and circled the area. He wanted to keep Phil’s view intact. Such a clue could be fleeting. In the steep bank, Johnny could see out Phil’s window much better. The veteran aviator immediately spotted a blood-red speck. The speck introduced the tail section of an aircraft to Johnny’s eyes. It took Phil a few seconds longer to make out the outline.

They circled down in closing rings. Johnny was thankful for the weather. Such conditions were the case only one out of every three days in this area during winter. At 300 feet, Phil saw a woman waving wildly at them with both arms. Johnny broke the circle, flew straight for a few seconds, then banked to come back as low as he dared over the wreckage. Phil’s heart leaped into his throat when he recognized his long-time friend. His “orphanage sister.” “Damn, Johnny! That’s her. That’s our gal, Therese Belivet!”

Johnny patted Phil’s back in excitement; then, he checked his fuel gauge. “Hey, buddy! You know I can’t put this crate down anywhere around here.”

“I know. So what’s the plan?”

“We’ve got maybe ten minutes onsite. Reach in that pack and grab that walkie-talkie and make sure it will power up.”

“Phil had the Military-issue SCR-536 handheld radio out in seconds. “Are we going to drop it to her?”

“Damn straight, we are!”

“That’s great! She knows how to use one.”

“What?”

“It’s a long story, but she’s seen the elephant, my friend.”

“Nuff said. Okay, wrap your blanket around it, then stuff it back in that pack and secure the flap. There’s some other shit in there she might use to get through the night.”

As they made the next low, slow pass, Johnny observed, “She must be sheltering in that tail section.”

“I guess so.”

As they neared Therese, Phil opened his door and dropped the pack. It drove into the snow a few yards from Therese. Phil looked back to see her dash the impact point. He laughed.

They circled and watched as Therese knelt in the snow with the 5-pound radio pressed to her cheek. She waved her arm. Phil exclaimed, “She’s on, Johnny!”

Johnny spoke into his microphone. “Sentinel to Therese … do you copy? Over.”

After some static, they heard, “Roger that, Sentinel … Therese copies. Over.”

“Roger that. Therese, stay safe and warm tonight. We will contact you tomorrow with a plan to extract survivors. Over.”

After a pause and more static. “Roger that, Sentinel. Is that Phil in the plane with you? Over.”

“Affirmative, Therese. I’m putting him on. Over.”

“Roger that. Over.”

Phil keyed the mic. “Therese, thank God you’re safe. Carol, Con, and Janice are waiting in Boise. Over.”

“That’s good to know, Phil. Listen, guys! A child named Ronald Benoit and I are the only two survivors. He is around 18 months old. Over.”

The two men sadly glanced at the heap of wreckage to the west. “Understood. Over.”

“Phil, We’ll be fine. Can’t wait to hug you. Over.”

Johnny tapped Phil’s arm. “Phil, we gotta head back. Before you sign off, tell her to turn her radio off.”

Phil nodded, then keyed the mic, “Roger that, Therese. Hey, be sure to turn your radio off … save the battery. Y’all stay safe, and we will return A-S-A-P. Out.”

On the way back, Johnny radioed Boise with the good news and the tragic news.

Then he radioed Gowen. He knew the base commander from England. Johnny requested a callback. The radioman figured that Johnny would be back before they could reach the commander. He cleared Johnny to land at Gowen and address the Colonel in person.

The sun had dipped below the horizon as they landed at Gowen.

In an unmistakable Texas accent, the base commander boomed, “Johnny, how the hell are ya? Great work, man … uh, shame about the number that didn’t make it.”

“That’s true, Colonel. Thank you for letting us land and talk to you. This lanky Marine is Phil McElroy.”

“Anything for an old 8th Air Force crew chief, Johnny. You were the best.” The colonel nodded to Phil, “Hey, Phil, nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Colonel,” said Phil as they shook hands.

Johnny began, “Hey, Colonel, I see that you’ve still got those two Sikorsky R-6A helicopters on the pad. Do you have anyone left that can fly them?”

“Yes, but he’s one sorry ass pilot … me.”

Johnny and Phil chuckled at the down to earth base commander. Johnny commented, “Why does that not surprise me, Sir.”

“Are we gonna go pick that woman and the child up in the morning?” Obviously, the colonel had been informed of Johnny’s radio report.

“That would be great, Colonel; they’ve been freezing out there on that mountain for four days.”

“No problem, Johnny, but the R-6 only has two seats. Is the woman … well … petite?”

Phil answered, “Yes, Sir … very.”

“Okay, then. I can put the woman and the tyke in the same seat and bring them home, but you’ll need to lead me right to that crash site in your puddle jumper.”

“Of course, Colonel.”

“The forecast is even better than today’s weather. Can you be here at seven, Johnny?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll see you then.”

“Hold up, guys! They have prepared fried chicken and mashed potatoes in the mess. Why don’t you guys come over and eat with me? Then I’ll have one of my men run you home. Just leave your plane here, Johnny. I’ll have it refueled for you.”

Johnny looked at Phil. “You okay with eating here, Phil?”

“Sure, but is there any way I could call over at that CAA building and inform my people.”

The colonel had walked them into his command center by this time. He barked at one of the airmen, “Morgan get Ed Harris over at the FAA on the phone for Gunny McElroy here. Phil, Ed can round up your folks and put one of them on the phone.”

Phil laughed, “How did you know I was a Gunnery Sergeant, Sir?”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right, Phil? Hey, man, I gotta hear your story about that arm.”

Phil and Johnny shook their heads in wonder at the “no filter” officer.

“Hey, I have a quick call to make myself. Y’all make your call, and I’ll be back in a jiffy; then we’ll go eat.” The colonel stopped and turned, “How many people in your party, Phil?”

“Three more, Sir.”

“Invite them. If they want to join us, tell them I’ll send a car for them. Can you go pick them up, Morgan?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good man, Morgan.”

The base commander had Carol and Janice sit to each side of him at dinner. Carol and Janice had to touch up their faces after the crying jag induced by learning of Therese’s survival. Distracted by thoughts of Therese huddling in this cold for another terrible night, Carol had to fight to be charming at dinner. Janice carried the ball, and Carol managed to enjoy her first meal since Wednesday.

The colonel insisted they stay the night at rooms in his mostly vacated bachelor officer quarters. Johnny had no family to go home to, so he stayed as well.

*****

Therese watched the airplane fly away until it disappeared in the glare from the evening sun. She carried the pack and radio into her shelter, and after tying the flap shut, Therese joined Ronnie in the nest. He had slept right through all the excitement. Therese picked through the pack. It contained a folding knife, flashlight, extra batteries, an electric lantern, a sealed tin of cookies, two cans of tomato soup, a GI P-38 can opener, a tin of crackers, a tin of k-ration peanut butter, and two cans of condensed milk.

Therese hung the lantern above them from one of the airline seats. She flicked it on and reveled in its brightness. Therese used the P-38 to open one of the cans of soup. Therese stoked and fed her fire to heat a pitcher of the liquid. Ronnie roused. She changed him, noticing it was his next to last clean diaper. Therese grinned, “Well, at least I won’t have to melt a gallon’s worth of snow then figure out a way to wash dirty diapers in sub-zero temperatures. The lavatories’ water froze solid on Friday.

She split the tomato soup between them then made several peanut butter crackers. Therese would eat the majority of each one then give Ronnie a quarter-portion of each delight. She wasn’t sure how the heavy, sweet condensed milk would agree with him, so she melted the last carton of airline milk and stirred the two together. He liked the concoction, as did Therese. It warmed her core, almost as much as the knowledge that Carol was waiting for her in Boise.

She slept sporadically throughout the seemingly endless night. Therese was nervous. _Ronnie, we’ve made it so far; what if something happens now!_

At first light, Therese used the last diaper and dressed Ronnie snuggly in his wooly romper. She used the last of the coffee grounds and melted snow to make her morning cup. She added some condensed milk from the remaining can to mellow her coffee. She cut the sweet milk with warm water and filled Ronnie’s cup. They devoured the shortbread cookies and a frozen banana between them. After breakfast, Therese reloaded Johnny’s pack and extinguished their fire. They were ready.

She realized how long a ground rescue might take, but she tried not to think about it as her watch showed nine o’clock. A few minutes later, Therese heard the sound of an aircraft engine. Therese grabbed the hefty walkie-talkie and gave its stubby antenna a tug to turn it on. She made sure Ronnie’s tether was secure. He had been lolling with his bear, but he heard the aircraft as well, perked, and stood up. Therese used the distraction to slip “Bear-wuh” into the pack.

Therese walked out and stared to the west. She saw two black specs in the distance. As they closed, Therese wondered aloud upon seeing the insect-like Sikorsky, “What the hell?” She had only seen helicopters in photographs and newsreels.

Phil called her; he once again accompanied Johnny. Phil introduced Therese to the Gowen Base Commander, and the colonel took it from there. They made exchanges, and Therese suggested the chopper pilot land on the rocky plate perhaps fifty or so feet west of her charred sheet of the aluminum skin. He told her to step back into the galley until he touched down. The veteran aviator knew only too well the capricious Rocky Mountain winds. They were too close to home to mess up now. Johnny and Phil watched anxiously from 500 feet as they circled.

The colonel landed the R-6A then radioed Therese to fetch the child, keep her head down, and board his R-6A. The colonel felt the urge to step from his Sikorsky and help the woman and child, but he felt it too great a risk to leave the flight controls.

Therese beamed and clapped cheerfully to the little boy, “Ronnie, let’s go home! Let’s go flying in a whirlybird!”

Ronnie clapped back, hollering, “Tez! Mor oba dare!”

She slung the pack over her shoulder, freed the leash from its anchor, and gathered him tightly in her arms. Therese wrapped the strap around both of them and cinched it with a knot at his back. Therese paused a second to say, “Good-bye, igloo. Thanks!” She exited and made her way to the chopper. Therese did not need the snowshoes. Fortunately, her multiple drags of the day before had packed down a path to her signal fire. The surface froze hard overnight. Her footsteps broke the surface a scant inch or two.

At the helicopter, the colonel took her hand, pulling her into the cockpit. “Hi, Therese!” Keeping one hand on the cyclic, he reached across Therese to secure her door. The colonel patted Ronnie on the back. “You’re doin’ great, Sonny!” He steadied Ronnie while Therese fastened and tightened her seat belt. Noting the bound woman and child, the colonel laughed, “That was a great idea. Well done, Therese!”

Therese shrugged and laughed.

“Okay, here we go!” The pilot took them into the air. As he banked left to take a heading for Gowen, the pilot noticed that two other aircraft had joined the circling assemblage. He snapped radio commands to the other pilots warning them to keep their distance.

Upon touching down at Gowen, the colonel shut the chopper down. "Keep your seat, Therese," he insisted; then he exited and darted around the nose to open Therese’s door. He helped her out. She was struggling with the knot in the strap. The colonel helped her untie the knot and unwound the rope,

The little boy frowned at the onrushing crowd and hugged Therese tightly, tucking his head down into the nap of her neck. The colonel saw Ronnie’s reaction and presented his palms to slow and quiet them.

Carol reached Therese and gave her an Academy Award-winning, platonic hug. The embrace enveloped Ronnie as well. Therese softly spoke, “Carol, this is Ronnie.”

Carol gently patted the boy and leaned around Therese to catch his eye. “Hello, Ronnie.”

Ronnie spontaneously reached out and swooshed Carol’s heavenly soft hat. Onlookers sighed, “Aww.”

One of the trailing aircraft was a press charter from San Francisco. A radio crew, some newspaper reporters, and a film crew were aboard. During the approach, the

The colonel had reluctantly given his tower permission to land them. Their pilot taxied them to a stop about a hundred yards away. The charter’s door opened, and the media reps began to pour out headed for Therese. They hollered, "Miss Belivet!" or "Hey, Therese!" 

Con and Janice joined Therese, hugged her, and urged Therese towards the field's command center. They raced ahead of the newsmen to the building and slipped in with the colonel bringing up the rear. He diplomatically and politely answered a few questions curtly, then waved as he closed the door. “Damn! I bet this field hasn’t had this much press hoopla since Jimmy Stewart graduated bomber school.”

Two nurses and a doctor from the field’s medical staff were on hand to examine Therese and Ronnie. Therese had to literally pry Ronnie from her neck to let them check his vitals. Carol stepped in to distract him so a nurse could take Therese to another makeshift examination room.

Therese apologized to her nurse and doctor. “I bet I smell like a horse. Sorry!” The pair of war veterans laughed and shook their heads. As they finished with Therese, she fretted when she heard Ronnie call out, “Tez!”

After they were reunited, Therese was relieved to find Ronnie grinning. He exclaimed, “Tez!” He pointed at Carol, fondly identifying her as “Ka-wuh.” Therese's heart melted.

“Ka-wuh” and “Tez” joined their friends in the building’s break room for coffee and doughnuts. Ronnie was too excited to eat. He made fast friends of Janice and Phil and introduced them to his best friend, “Bear-with.” Con took advantage of the distraction to pull Therese and Carol aside and update them on his latest findings.

“It turns out that Ronnie’s family, the Benoits, are from Brooklyn. Mr. Benoit had a job interview in Frisco. He checked their older son out of school so that the whole family could get a look at what might become their new home. They were returning to New York … just like you, T.”

Carol asked, “Who told you all this, Con?”

The CAA is hearing from the friends, companies, or families of all of these folks. Mr. Benoit’s prospective employer in Frisco quickly realized they were on this flight. The company’s rep left a name and number. I called him. That’s who told me.” After a pause, Con said, “The rep and the CAA are trying to contact some immediate or even distant Benoit family, but it sounds like they’re not having much luck.”

“Therese asked, did you happen to hear or see the older son’s name?” asked Therese.

“Uh, yeah.” Con pulled out his faithful little notebook. He flipped through a page or two and read, “Andrew Peter.”

Therese remembered his face and numbly said, “Andrew Peter Benoit.”

Con gently tapped both of their arms. “Ladies, the airline is sending their executive plane here tomorrow to take us back to New York … all of us.”

“Really?” asked Carol.

“Yes. … And Therese?”

“Yes?”

“They’ve … uh, both the airline and the CAA … asked if you’d accompany Ronnie.”

“Oh. He’ll be on our flight?” she murmured.

“If you’ll … we’ll … take charge of him, he will. Otherwise, they’ll hire someone … a woman from Boise, I guess. They hope to contact some family by the time we have reached New York.”

No one but the team was in the room. Carol knelt by Therese and put her arm around her girl. “You’ve been through a lot, darling. It’s your decision. Whatever you decide, we’ll support you.”

“Of course, I’ll take Ronnie home,” said Therese.

Con glanced at Carol, and they smiled at one another. Their attention turned to Ronnie when he exclaimed, “Tez! Ook!” The inquisitive rascal had discovered the tuft of fabric hanging from Phil’s left shoulder. He was gently lifting it then pressing it down.

Phil and Janice stifled laughter. Therese had to lower her mouth into her hand to control her own surreal mirth.

Later, Janice asked if she could get Therese anything for lunch.”

Therese answered, “Anything but fuckin’ ham or peas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/QkIYQXy)  
> Stinson L-5 Sentinel
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/pt7D606)  
> The U.S. military's first Walkie-Talkie. 
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/MUnStLV)  
> Sikorsky R-6A
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/CpdaCOg)  
> No passive sentences!


	23. I Was Waiting for the Best

Therese awoke on Sunday morning in one of the three bedrooms of her suite at The Owyhee. Boise’s finest hotel was luxurious. Their lodging was booked and paid for by the nervous airline. Therese was so glad she accepted the sedative offered by her Air Force doctor; if she had dreamed in the night, there was no recollection. The roll-in baby bed at the foot of her and Carol’s bed was empty. Therese could hear Ronnie’s laughter from the suite’s living room.

There was a bathroom in her room. She washed her face and ran a comb through her hair; it was a Christmas gift from Jitka. She smiled at the confidence of Carol and Con bringing her “gotta-dash” bag. She put on a hotel robe, opened her bedroom door, and stepped out.

“Tez!” chirped Ronnie. The adults laughed.

Carol popped up and hurried to hug Therese. “How do you feel, Kitten?”

“Fine … I slept well.”

“That’s marvelous, darling. Have some juice or coffee.

Ronnie was standing on Con’s thighs, looking back over Con's shoulder at Therese. Therese went to Ronnie; she hugged and kissed the child. “How are you doing, Ronnie?”

He pressed his head to her bosom and hugged her mightily. After a moment, he released her, then tumbled from Con’s arms to Janice’s lap. Janice giggled with joy and tickled him.

Therese walked to the room service’s cart. She gasped, “My God! Look at all of this!”

Carol handed Therese a plate and assisted her sleeping beauty in filling it. Therese sat to enjoy cheese eggs, toast, link sausages, hash browns, coffee, and orange juice. Just after she started eating, she paused and asked, “Did Ronnie eat anything?”

The others laughed, and Phil confirmed, “Oh, yeah; he ate everything!”

Therese asked the time. Carol answered, “It’s a quarter to nine, T; you’ve been asleep since eight last night.”

“Thirteen hours?’ Therese thought about the day before: the rescue, the medical folks, and the interview with a CAA team. A press conference was discussed, but Therese had blanched at the thought of facing them in her exhausted and disheveled state. Carol and Con had stepped in, and despite the next day being Sunday, insisted the conference be on Sunday afternoon. “If she’s up to it then.”

She did insist on meeting Johnnie Rodrigues before leaving Gowen Field. Therese hugged him and the colonel and thanked them for saving her and Ronnie’s lives.

A roast beef dinner with vegetables and desserts was delivered to their suite on Saturday night. Therese was nodding afterward during their after-dinner conversation. Carol handed her the pill, and a glass of water at 8 then took her to bed. Ronnie was already sound asleep. Carol cuddled up to Therese and held her. Therese fell asleep almost instantly.

Janice and Phil had stopped at a women’s clothing store recommended by the colonel’s girlfriend. The airline representative had handed Therese an envelope with $500 in cash to “cover expenses.” Janice and Phil took two hundred and spent most of it on a couple of very fine ensembles in Therese’s size. The purchases included everything from hats to shoes and all things in between. She would have a choice for the next day’s press conference. The press conference was tentatively set for two o’clock on Sunday afternoon.

After breakfast, Therese sat on the couch and cuddled Ronnie. He had been up since six with Phil. The little fellow’s endorphins kicked in with Therese’s soft warmth, and he fell asleep. Con gently lifted Ronnie then he and Carol put the boy to bed.

Janice and Carol joined Therese on the couch and showed her the Sunday edition of the _Idaho Statesman_ , Boise’s leading newspaper. Therese stared at the headline.

Doll Model and Tot Weather Blizzard on Cobb Peak!

She read the first few lines of the front-page article then scanned her friends. Con and Phil were sitting across from her. Con shook his head and reported, “Therese, you might not be the headline on all the papers, but you are on the front page of all of them.

“Oh, shit.”

“That’s right. The press has been flocking to town en masse.”

Carol added, “The desk has been delivering accumulated messages from everybody, his brother, and their dog all morning. _Life_ and _Time_ have requested exclusives.”

“If anyone writes my story, I insist it be you, Carol.”

Janice spontaneously hugged Therese. “I love that, T. I agree, only Carol should pen her lady’s story.”

Con informed Therese, “Mags and Gates are calling at eleven Mountain Time. Let’s start getting ready and hold off discussing this further until we talk to them.

Therese glanced at Carol; her lover nodded. Therese spoke, “Okay, Con, that sounds like a plan.” She smirked and looked around. “Okay, where can a girl get a hairdresser in this burg?”

Carol chuckled, “No worries, T. A woman is coming at noon.”

Therese looked at the closed bedroom door. “I guess we’ll have to get a sitter for Ronnie.”

Janice said, “No, no. Phil and I will stay with him.” Then she looked at Carol.

Carol placed her hand on Therese’s shoulder. “Therese, the press is expecting to see Ronnie there.”

“Oh … oh, yeah … well, maybe a short time. But, listen … I don’t want them scaring him unduly.”

Phil assured Therese, “We’ll ease him out of there and bring him up here as soon as you give us the nod, T.”

“Okay. Thanks, y’all.”

*****

After the press conference, Therese, Ronnie, and their party rode to the airport in a pair of airline vehicles. They boarded the airline’s executive airplane, a Lockheed 18 Lodestar, and took off within minutes. Airborne at sunset under beautiful flying conditions, Therese took death grips on Carol and Con’s hands. Ronnie sat smiling between Janice and Phil. The empathetic pilot realized how such a post-crash flight might loom for Therese. Before they took off, he took a moment to leave the cockpit. He came back to the cabin and knelt in the aisle by Therese. “Miss Belivet, it’s an honor to fly you back to New York. I want to assure you that my co-pilot, navigator, and I took every precaution; we performed every check twice in our preflight. This Lockheed is the most reliable aircraft of its type in the world. This latest body of weather has cleared the east coast. We’ll land in Chicago in a few hours to refuel and give you folks a chance to stretch your legs. After taking off again, you’ll be back in New York all safe and sound early tomorrow morning.”

Therese shook his hand, saying, “Thank you, Sir; I know you’ll take care of us.”

Back at the Towers, Gates and Margaret had purchased a bed for Ronnie on Saturday, and it now stood in “Therese’s” room. The little fellow was sound asleep in Phil’s arm as they entered the room at six on Monday morning. Therese took him and changed him to his PJs, then tucked him in his soft flannel sheets.

*****

Neither of Ronnie’s parents left a will; thus, a guardian wasn’t named. Mr. Benoit had no living relatives. Mrs. Benoit’s parents had passed away before the war and her only sibling, an estranged sister, wanted nothing to do with raising her nephew. With Therese’s blessing, Janice and Phil applied for and were granted foster parent status of Ronald Benoit in March. Janice and Phil had tired of the intrigue at the fledgling CIA. They both resigned. Janice wanted to devote her time to Ronnie and Phil. Phil went to work as security director for the ever-expanding _Doll_ magazine. The couple sold their Washington residence and moved into the last available apartment in the Towers. That summer, Attorney Jon Arrington volunteered his considerable talent and influence into expediting Ronnie’s adoption by Phil and Janice. Just as Therese was raised by a community, so would be Ronnie. His virtual family of loving friends was bound as tightly as any biological family. 

Breaking with their usual content, Gates, and Margaret urged Therese and Carol to publish the bird’s-eye tale of Therese’s crash and survival in _Doll._ They tripled the printing. This April issue sold out. Following Carol’s March fashion article, Miss Aird was established as a writer.

It would be a year before Therese would fly. Carol didn’t care if her love ever wanted to travel by air again. She wanted her girl happy, and that was all that mattered. Their frequent modeling was well balanced by writing and editing. Therese loved typing and proofing for Carol.

Therese surprised Carol with a baby grand piano for Christmas at yearend. Carol could now play whenever she desired and for as long as she wanted.

While Alpha Parents Janice and Phil flourished, Con and Margaret started their own family. Carol Therese Slate was born in May of 1947. Ronnie adored his “cousin.”

Paramount approached Therese about acting late in 1947. She discussed it with Carol. Therese promised to get back with them later. That Christmas, Lucy Liner said the right decision would come to Therese with time.

Tommy sent his Navy pay home to Lucy during the war. She deposited every penny in one of Alabama’s few black-owned banks. After Tommy returned, he purchased a truck and started a transportation business. Liner provided a much-needed means for small farmers to get their fruit, dairy, and vegetable products to larger markets like Mobile and Montgomery.

Thanks to an academic scholarship obtained with the help of Mrs. Wallace, Carter Bell Liner thrived at Barber-Scotia College. It was a four-year program for southern black women. Therese and Carol financially supported both of the industrious young adults with their endeavors. They had already set aside funds for Carter’s graduate school and had a brick house built for Lucy and Tommy.

Sundays became everyone’s “fundays” in 1948. Most every Sunday afternoon, Therese “borrowed” Ronnie from the McElroys then walked him in Central Park with Jitka. Carol usually filled that time playing with her quintet. Jon and Gates manned the violins while Janice and Ruby played the viola and cello, respectively. Phil often caught a Sunday afternoon baseball game with Con or played cards when it was the off-season. If Margaret wasn’t napping, she joined the men at three-handed-bridge.

Carol and Therese devoted Sunday mornings to lovemaking. After one such intense adventure in their sheets, Carol rolled away and lit them a cigarette to share. Following a long drag, Therese passed Carol the smoke. She asked, “C, do you ever regret not taking another lover before me?”

Without hesitation, Carol replied, “No, darling; I was waiting for the best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers, 
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting on _The Potomac_. I've thoroughly enjoyed this ramble.
> 
> Please, please, take care in 2021. Surely, the pandemic will crest so that we may take back our lives from Covid-19.
> 
> Love ya! 
> 
> Danny


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